


The Hermit and her Inari

by WhateverNever



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Character Study, Chilled love story with most of the cast, Everyone else will have some input or other, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, I'm throwing all the confidants I can in there too, Romance, Slow-ish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 06:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14538891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhateverNever/pseuds/WhateverNever
Summary: Futaba Sakura and Yusuke Kitagawa are both eccentric, driven people, yet, they are entirely different to one another. But you know what they say about opposites...





	1. Quest Dispenser

**Author's Note:**

> I actually added another chapter to this so I figured it was high time to move it here as well. And make the protaganist's name Ren for variety's sake. If this is your first time reading, be thankful you didn't have to wait a year for the latest chapter like some poor saps out there. Enjoy!

“Reeeeeen, I need a new sub quest!”

Ren didn’t know why Futaba spent her time hunched in front of Le Blanc when she pretty much had free reign of the interior, but he did enjoy how she would spring upright from her position when he turned the corner. Not that her standing made much difference, the girl was so short he had to keep his chin firmly tucked to make eye contact. “Sub quest?” He mulled, less thoughtfully than he was putting on, “Surely that isn’t worth enough XP for you at this point…” Futaba had been doing well at breaking out of her once impenetrable shell, the pair had been all around the city, and she had even managed to talk to some of his other friends that they came across on their quests, with increasingly little pushing.

“Hanging with you is a grind,” she agreed, her oblivious rudeness tickling Ren like it usually did, “But grinds are important! You start small, get stronger, grab some loot on the way, speaking of which,” she raised a finger, “I want some crepes! Big ones! And I looked up just the place...”

Her wooly haired friend raised his palm, which was about the only thing he could ever do to slow her down from her frantic speech. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’ve got other plans, I’m only here to grab some things from upstairs.”

“Huh?” Futaba gasped. “You tricked me! Why you…” The odd girl snarled for a couple seconds, Ren passively waiting for her temper to pass. Futaba was certainly erratic, but maybe even more than Sojiro, Ren was able to understand that she simply processed everything around her at a frantic pace, not leaving much time for her to consider her actions. Case in point, now she was beaming. “Oh well, I can catch you another day,” she said cheerfully, already passing beside him, “Back to the lair I go!”

Before she could drift away, an idea struck Ren. “Wait, I can offer you a big quest instead!”

Futaba tapped her chin as she turned around. “A big quest? How big? And what kind of rewards are there?”

“Crepes and more,” Ren said brightly, “I’ll play games with you all Sunday. _And_ make you curry too.”

“You should really know that curry doesn’t have any pull with me,” Futaba rolled her eyes, “Sojiro is like an inventory exploit there. Then again crepes,” she considered, “And you haven’t been free on a Sunday for a while...”

“And the XP,” Ren said.

“Yeah yeah yeah,” she waved away, “You may have piqued my interest. Whaddya want?”

Now here was the hardest sell. “So a friend of mine has this exhibition and-”

Futaba stared at him blankly. “Inari’s exhibition. Really?”

“Wait, how do you-”

“No one else you know does anything worth showing off, and I know about everyone,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, sending a chill down Ren’s spine for good measure. “Plus it’s been all over his social media pages and stuff. Not that he knows anything at all about building an online presence…”

She was scowling already, clearly this wasn’t going to be an easy sell. “So you were right.”

“Of course I was,” she muttered.

“I know art galleries aren’t exactly your thing-”

“Of course they aren’t! Room full of stuffy idiots telling me what's important, and _oh that’s so original_ , when it isn’t and they’re just dumb.”

“Oh come on,” Ren said impatiently, “That isn’t all there is too it. I see you staring at the Sayuri in LeBlanc all the time.”

Futaba was taken aback. “Thats…” She looked away sadly. “Different…”

Sometimes Ren could forget in that playing around with the boisterous girl, and challenging her, there was a fragile core which was incredibly delicate, when hit in the right places. “I know,” he said softly, “But maybe you’ll find something else like that, something that speaks to you. Besides, it’s a hell of a dungeon,” he went on, feeling vindicated seeing her side eye him, “High class mobs, quiet atmosphere, a room with no definitive answers. Would be a coup if someone from your class could pull off the raid.” She was looking at him now, considering the challenge. “Anyway I really think it would be a nice thing for Yusuke. Everyone else is so busy studying for exams next week they haven’t been able to drop by. I did a couple days ago-”

“But you’re a genius, yeah yeah…” Futaba thought for a while. An art gallery would probably feel uncomfortable, especially without Ren by her side, but she knew she had to get to the point where she could solo-queue around the city. Maybe Inari’s exhibition could be a step to that. “But does it have to be me?” She protested childishly. “Yusuke and I don’t exactly get on like a house on fire.”

“He’s your friend,” Ren reminded her, “And you’re his. He’ll be really happy to get some support, and, besides, that’s how friends are meant to treat friends.” To seal the deal, he pulled out his wallet, and pulled out some notes. “These are for the crepes. For **both** of you. Lord knows that boy doesn’t eat enough…”

The reminder of her craving was enough to seal it. “Ugh, fine,” she said, over emphasising her discomfort whilst snatching the money offered to her. “I’ll go help out stupid Inari…”

“Great! Thanks, by the way,” he said earnestly, to which she blushed. “I’ll get Yusuke to meet you at the station. The place is called Ueno, you should probably head over there now, the train is-”

“I know the way,” she said flatly, already walking towards the station. “Girl genius, remember?” She huffed. “This better be worth a ton of XP.”

“Oh, so much!” He called as she left, pulling his phone out of his pocket, to let Yusuke know what was happening.

_**Ren:**  Futaba’s gonna come to your exhibition today, can you meet her at the station?_

_**Yusuke:** Her? She’s never expressed any particular care for either my work or wellbeing previously..._

_**Yusuke:** I’m assuming you’ve cajoled her for my benefit, which while I appreciate, is unnecessary._

_**Ren:** Me? Cajole? I’m insulted._

_**Ren:** Regardless she’s already on her way._

_Yusuke: On her way?! Well send her back! Surely she would be unable to appreciate the breadth of the art here._

_Yusuke: What if she causes a scene!?_

_**Ren:** Calm down Van Gogh, don’t go crazy on me._

_**Ren:** Look I wanted to get her out on her own, see more of the city._

_**Ren:** But it’s really scary for her so I was hoping you could keep an eye on her._

_**Ren:** She can’t use me as a crutch for the rest of her life._

_Yusuke: ..._

_Yusuke: I suppose out of care I would be able to accommodate her._

_Yusuke: And for the record I resent one of art’s finest minds being equated to ‘crazy’._

_**Ren:** Thanks a bunch man._

_**Ren:** And that guy cut off his ear he clearly had issues._

_Yusuke: He was a genius misunderstood in his own time. Such an injustice would take it’s toll on a man._

_Yusuke: Really we should admire his passion._

_**Ren:** Right…_

_**Ren:** Anyway remember to meet her at the station. And not mention that I told you she finds it scary._

_Yusuke: I can be a master of subtlety, so that should cause no trouble._

Ren shook his head in disbelief as he put his phone back in his pocket. Yusuke could be strange, big headed, even delusional, but he had a good heart. He trusted him to look after the girl he’d grown to see as his little sister.  
But now he could focus on his plans for the evening. A shift at the weapons store and an evening with his favourite maid would not go amiss…


	2. The Exhibition

Anxiety was a strange thing. Someone could go about their business, free from worries, and perhaps even looking forward to what the world has in store for them that day. But then something happens. Something tangible; a shove from a stranger in a rush, a preacher screeching something vile. Or something invisible; a thought creeping up through the back of your mind, the model on the billboard bringing up memories of someone you used to know. In any case, the result is the same. A tug on the chains you had forgotten about, cutting into your wrist, dragging you back inside the dark monster, the one never really went away.

Futaba Sakura’s recovery was peppered by these moments, and what frustrated her most was that it felt unexpected every time. In this particular instance she was provoked by the stares of some boys on her train. She was doing fine, even well, before that. She was in quest mode- swiping her travel card through the gates (Courtesy of Sojiro, who was indescribably happy when she finally asked for one), waiting some short minutes before her train, even when struggling past the general public with her short stature, that was all fine. But leaning against the cool metal pole in the middle of the aisle, her curse struck again.

She noticed things. In her years of solitude it meant she knew exactly how her guardian had rearranged her room while she was sleeping, but more importantly, it kept her on top of her game while she was working as Medjed. She knew exactly who to hit for maximum damage, where to find her tools for the job, or the information to make them herself. Now freed from her physical prison, those skills were coming into their own, as the Navigator of the Phantom Thieves. Unfortunately, it came with the side effect of having a rough idea of what everybody around her was thinking, as long as the tells were there. It wasn’t as if she was particularly good with people, the exact opposite in fact, but when you can hear their voices, even hushed to near silence, and see where their eyes falling, well, they became constituents to an equation she couldn’t stop herself from solving.

“Dude you see the redhead over there?”

“Shaddup man they’ll hear you.”

Futaba was watching their eyes in the reflection of a window. Their gaze felt like sharp ice on her skin. She willed for it to melt, but it was a futile hope.

“No way bro, it’s a packed train! Don’t you think she looks  _ fine _ ?”

The girl jolted. There was an uncomfortable amount of emphasis on that one word.

“I mean sure dude, but she must be like, twelve or something, look at how short she is!”

“C’mon man, twelve year olds don’t wear hot pants like that!” 

She gripped the bar tighter. She wore them because they were comfortable. She never had to worry about other people seeing her legs before, and hell, why did she have to start worrying now!

“I’m gonna go talk to her-”

“No you’re not man, c’mon, how many times have we had this exact conversation?” 

“Well, we’re about five weeks into summer, so probably about twenty times.”

One of them laughed. “Sounds about right man. Shit, here’s our stop.”

The train halted, but while Futaba felt the boys leave, she felt a million other eyes on her in their place. It was so illogical! If anything they were paying her a compliment! It wasn’t like she didn’t do some leering of her own with everybody’s outfits in the metaverse! Yet… She felt exposed. She didn’t want to feel this way, she didn’t even see any sense in feeling this way, but despite all that, she did. 

The last part wasn’t strictly true. She had obviously looked up her condition, feeling Ren couldn’t rival the font of knowledge that was the internet, and knew that while there wasn’t any sense in feeling as she did, her brain was still coming up with reasons flowing through her mind.  _ But what if someone else is looking at me? What if someone else tries to talk to me?  I should’ve worn something different… I shouldn’t have gone here on my own… _

She dashed to a suddenly free seat in the carriage, and drew her knees to her face.  _ No, you’re being stupid Futaba, you can do this! But then why is everybody looking at me? What do they want from me? Who do they think I am? I… I…  _

And so from there it flooded. The worries of not just being in public, but being on stage, with all of Tokyo as an audience. Was it a comedy? All of them laughing at the gawky teenager who didn’t know a thing about the real world? Was it a mystery? Would someone pull her aside and ask her to reveal all her secrets, in a harsh interragation? Was it a horror? Where the people will gather with their pitchforks and torches, and maul the monster that roamed their streets. A genre she already had experience of living in.

None of those thoughts were based on anything particularly tangible. She wasn’t the monster that had been judged guilty of matricide, and beyond that the rest of the world frankly didn’t care she existed. But, as she knew better than anyone, mightier than all the most frank logic, cognition was everything.

The quest kept her on her path. She couldn’t face Ren with only failure in her inventory. So nope, she would pull through this! Even if she was fighting the heavy clouds in her heart, even if she had to pry her eyelids open and wrench her palms covering her ears. She couldn’t ignore the outside world. She. Could. Live. With. It.

Mind still racing at a frantic pace, when the train stopped at the right station, Futaba shot out of the opening doors. She had been learning that when these attacks hit, a change of scene could at least begin to calm her down. Which she needed to be, least that stupid Inari see’s her like this. No, that would not-

“Futaba!”

A hand on her shoulder.

A hand. On HER shoulder.

Ryuji once told her a creep’s weak spot wasn’t their nuts, as conventional wisdom would show. It was the gut, whilst they were unprepared.  _ Then  _ you go for the balls. Without thinking she followed that recommendation.

Her knuckles tapped some lithe skin under a smooth white shirt. 

She looked up to see Yusuke, his hand still on her shoulder, looking down at her with a befuddled expression. “What on  _ earth  _ are you doing?”

She was lost for words, for a moment. The bustle of the city passed the pair by as he stood there, waiting for an answer. Recovering, she batted his arm away, creating some distance for good measure. “Didn’t know it was you…” She mumbled. “Who chases down a girl on a platform anyway?! Stupid Inari…”

Yusuke was very confused. Futaba was looking everywhere she could except at him, and looked smaller than ever. Then he remembered Ren’s warning. “Oh,” he mused, “You thought I was some ruffian…”

Her eyes, hot, snapped to his. “And can you blame me?! What kind of weirdo sneaks up on a girl like that?  **Stupid** Inari…”

He had never been particularly fond of that nickname, and he felt his own temper flare. “Well perhaps it wouldn’t have been necessary if it wasn’t for your sprinting through the station!”

“That’s-” She wanted to leave. She felt horrible and she didn’t even care about this stupid exhibition and…

Stop. Breathe.  _ You have a quest to finish Futaba.  _ She looked at Yusuke, still emanating his unique brand of incredulousness.  _ Just turns out the raid boss is a stupid  _ **_stupid_ ** _ fox...  _ “Let’s go to your art thing then.”

She had already started walking away, surprising the artist and quelling his terse attitude.  _ It was just as Ren had mentioned…  _ Chiding himself for his lack of tact, he zoomed off after her, which didn’t take long, with the considerable discrepancy in their stride lengths. They walked in silence out of the station, Yusuke unsurprised that Futaba already knew the path to the gallery. Out in the sunshine of the busy street, he heard a mumbling beside him. “Hm?”

“I said why are you such a creep with girls?!” It came out in a snap, Futaba didn’t really mean for it to be vocalised at all, but her mind was connecting any fragments of information it could find, and she did  _ love  _ to show off. “I heard what you were up to with Ann back before you guys busted Maderame,” she continued pointedly, to Yusuke’s ever growing discomfort, “so is it just your thing to cross boundaries without asking? Do you enjoy it for the power trip, or are you just lacking any other kind of intimacy?”

Yusuke choked. “Gah- That-”

“Hmm, maybe it’s because you never had a strong female role model in your life,” Futaba wondered, “I’ve seen a few studies that-”

“It’s not about ‘crossing boundaries’, it’s not about anything!” He explained in a sort of quiet panic. “At the station I was simply trying to get your attention, and I apologise for how I did so.” He caught her eyes with a regretful expression. “Truly.”

A polite person would have left things at that. Futaba however still demanded her meals with the phrase ‘I hunger’. So she carried on. “And for Ann?”

“The situation with Ann was more…” He was quiet for a little while, mulling the past over. “I can understand how things must seem to you, especially hearing of them second hand. Hah,” he chuckled, “a firsthand account doesn’t reflect too well on me either. Futaba, have you ever experienced a mental block?"

She tilted her head. “Nope. I usually succeed at everything I try.” She shrugged. “Sometimes it can take a while I guess.”

“Hmm, I see…” He stroked his jawline. “Well, imagine there was a problem that you couldn’t solve, one taking many months, for example. What if where you lived and living the life you chose all relied on solving that problem?”

“Are you talking about a writer's block?”

“Artist’s block,” he corrected her, “But it’s very similar. My scholarship relies on me producing work that a panel deems is worthwhile, not to mention the necessity of sating my own personal passion. Maderame’s constant prodding was also a part of it.” He finished darkly. 

“Prodding?” Futaba asked, always curious of the chapters in that Phantom Thieves’ tales before her joining (regardless what she had already learned from her multitude of bugs, which may or may not still be installed around LeBlanc).

“Not that I could see that for what it was at the time,” the tall boy scoffed. “What I thought was the drive of a true artist, the mentoring of a father figure, it was all to churn out whatever he could find for his own collection.” He sighed again, leaning into a more wistful tone. “I still have trouble referring to it as… Abuse,” he said finally, “but the others have reliably informed me it was as such. So as you might understand, I was under immense pressure. When I first saw Ann, I felt a stir of inspiration within me, something I had been missing for a long time. In my state I was desperate to follow anything that made me feel, even if that was something as base and ludicrous as a nude drawing.”

“Sure sure,” Futaba smirked, her feeble emotional state earlier left long behind in the face of one of her favourite activities, teasing Yusuke. “You were just horny, admit it!”

“N-nothing of the sort!” Yusuke stammered. “The human form is of great artistic importance regardless of any sexual input!” A shivering wriggle of Futaba’s eyebrows showed his case wasn’t particularly convincing. “But yes, it seemed my mind just latched upon the worst possible idea at the time. I’ve wondered since if it was a misinterpretation of a signal from fate; reaching out to the Phantom Thieves was the source of my emancipation after all.”

“I have thought about that too,” Futaba found herself saying, “The concept of fate is bunk and all, but then again we do fight through dungeons with our demon monsters. Can you just imagine how things would be if Ren didn’t get stuck with Sojiro? I’d probably still be in my room right now.”

“For all the battles we have had to struggle through, I’d say the cards have still favoured us all,” Yusuke agreed.

Futaba looked at her friend, remembering for the first time in their meeting that he was in fact her friend, and felt that hit of recently familiar warmth, that she only started feeling when the pyramid in her palace finally came crushing down. “I’m not gonna say it’s cool you went all creeping around,” she said, grandly waving her finger. “But I think I get why you acted that way.”

He winced in response. “Creeping around… I suppose that is what it was, in a fashion. But I can only apologise for the impression that gives, and I know such actions, even in the pursuit of art, are unforgivable. Ann doesn’t seem to harbor any ill will.”

Futaba shrugged. “She knows what she’s got, probably isn’t the first time she’s had to deal with someone too keen.”

“Regardless,” he replied, still uncomfortable and wanting to change topics, “This new work does not rely on the human body, but yet, on its spirit!”

“Oh yeah, what’s it look like?” Futaba asked. 

Yusuke smirked, pointing out the sheen of the windows that stood before them, the art gallery Ueno. “You shall see for yourself.”

The gallery wasn’t particularly packed, “Most connoisseurs prefer to come in the evenings” Yusuke explained. He led Futaba through the polished wooden floors, past various sculptures and paintings, which she quickly judged.  _ Trash, trash, good technique I guess, that sculpture has a HUGE dong, hm, that flower field is pretty, hmmm, that person’s expression is a little sour- Oh! _

She stood before the brightest spot in the gallery. Not necessarily due to luminescence, there was some monstrosity of fairy lights wrapped around a wireframe whale nearby, but due to the way the painting drew you in. “ _ Hope and Desire. _ ” Yusuke informed her, quietly pleased it seemed to enrapture her attention. Spotting another Kosei student, he stepped aside. “Please take in the painting, I’ll return in a moment.”

She barely registered his words. The center of the painting was a bright fire, an explosion of white, yellow, red, and blue. This was laid upon a swirling dark background, and framed with petals swirling on the edge of the canvas, some blood red, some green and filled with life. It was an image so alien, yet, incredibly personal. Something beyond reminding her of somewhere she had seen, but somewhere she had been.

Meanwhile, Yusuke was greeting his classmate. “Kozue, you’ve come to see my work?”

Kozue Torawa was a fellow artist, and the rest of the class had sprung up a narrative around them. Yusuke, Madarame’s chosen one, a young artist living a dream, living the the atelier of one of the modern greats. Recent revelations hadn’t shaken that image of him, not that personal image was something that was particularly important to him. Then there was Kozue. A tall girl, only just shorter than him, wearing the white Kosei blouse with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and going for black trousers, rather than the skirt. Her hair was folded over to one side of her face, the other side shaved close to her scalp, fully showing off the assortment of piercings she weighed onto her ear. Today there was an oversized white lily. She came from prosperity, but not from art. His parents were rich, influential, and completely unhappy with their daughter. She was meant to become a stateswoman, a lawyer, a leader. But she shunned that life they laid out for her in the pursuit her art. A narrative that swept around all of school because she was only too happy to regale this tale to any willing ears. 

Yusuke had no real problem with her, he even liked a lot of her pieces. They showed a commitment to realism, yet added real fire underneath it, painting a picture of life that was more intense, and perhaps even more real, than reality itself. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a two way street. “I am always desperate to seek out the competition,” she said, her lips a smile, her voice a viper, “you should be very aware of that Kitagawa.”

He rolled his eyes. It was going to be one of  _ those  _ conversations. “Demeaning art to a mere competition lessens us all,” he replied, “We have had already had this conversation.”

Her smile was wicked. “Ah, hypocrisy! The lifeblood of our kind. This was a piece made for a competition, was it not?”

“I…” He started. “I was in a slump, and I needed to prove to myself my work delivers something of value.”

“And it does,” Kozue agreed. He didn’t find this admission surprising, despite this ‘rivalry’ they were meant to have, they both were very honest about art, and couldn’t deny the other’s exceptional talent. “I have seen better from you, I’d say, but after all the business with your mentor I would say you’re getting back on the right track.”

It was a frank statement, though he didn’t expect anything different. “I suppose I should say thank you,” he nodded at her. “I have to say I was surprised you didn’t enter.”

“I’ve had my exhibitions, and I’ve won enough competitions.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and showed him the front page of her blog, with a follower count already in the low 5-figures. “The masses, they’re where the real prize is to be gained.”

“Hmm. You wish to inspire them, garner awareness for the wonders of creativity?”

“Perhaps,” she shrugged. “They can take whatever they want from my peices. The key is to have them on my side- with a large enough fanbase, why, you can be practically invincible.” Her words felt somehow disconcerting to him, but he kept his opinions to himself with the thinning of his lips. “Take those Phantom Thieves for instance,” she went on, instantly catching his attention, “Even if they were to be caught, the public would not let them be imprisoned. They would be hailed as heroes the moment they stepped into the light!”

“Is that what you think too, Kozue?” Yusuke asked. “Do you think of them as heroes?”

“I am unsure,” she admitted, rolling the idea around her head, “They achieve acts generally seen as ‘good’, you saw first hand with Madarame, and again with that mobster that was operating around Shujin High. Then again, humans are beings defined by their hearts, correct? Surely taking such a thing from anyone is a heinous act.” It was something Yusuke had struggled to resolve himself, diverting his attention solely to the results, seeing people freed from the chains others had pushed onto them. “Regardless,” Kozue went on, “Their style and mystery is immaculate. They’ve captured many hearts, and I intend to do the same.”

“If you say though,” Yusuke said, looking back at Futaba. “I must get back to my friend, but thank you for coming along. You must show me what you are working on next time we’re in class.”

Still smiling, she shook her head sharply. “I show no-one my work in progress, you know that. My ideas are always vulnerable to being lifted by others, especially in the light of their sheer brilliance. If you want to see my work, you should follow my blog, like everybody else. I’ll see you later Kitagawa.” She leaned in closer. “And be careful with the girl, she looks  _ much  _ too young for you.”

Speechless, he watched as she left, her quiet but trilling laughter echoing through the halls. With a red face, he was glad to see Futaba was still utterly absorbed in  _ Hope and Desire _ , and didn’t hear that incredibly unnecessary comment.  _ Much too young for me,  _ he thought, shaking his head,  _ how on earth does that girl get such ideas into her head? _

He retook his place by Futaba’s side, letting his eyes glance over the intricacies of his own work, the faint brush strokes he spent hours ensuring they were off the right definition, the little imperfections of where the paint couldn’t set to his exact idea. “What do you think?” He offered to his short companion.

“It’s....” She looked around, ensuring the other patrons were at a safe distance. “It’s Mementos, isn’t it?”

Yusuke smiled. “That was the genesis of the painting. Originally it was lifted straight from that place, it’s foreboding atmosphere, it’s ever twisting walls and floors. But back then it was missing something. With Ren, I learned that showing those parts of the dungeon, just the desires of the human heart, was a pale imitation of what a man’s spirit is. So I added the glow at the center. Hope.”

She nodded, fully understanding what the painting was conveying now. “Sounds like Ren helped you a lot.”

“Yes,” He replied, “if this work was ever intended to turn a profit, he would certainly receive a producer’s credit.”

“Wait,” Futaba said slowly, “You aren’t going to flip this? But this would be worth so much money! And aren’t you really poor?”

Yusuke chuckled. “I thank you for your faith, and yes, my financial situation can be quite dire at times. But some things you just cannot sell. This is my first painting made as a truly free man, one with his own courage and drive. It is not something I can simply sell.” Futaba could hear it in his words and that underneath them. This was really his passion. “Besides which I couldn’t accept the winner’s prize.”

“Prize? What was that going to be?”

“The support of a prestigious art foundation,” he answered, incredibly passively.

The hacker’s eyelids drooped. “So you turned down free money?”

Yusuke shrugged, as if it was nothing. “I have resolved to follow my own path. I do not want others looking over my shoulder for what I should make. I will simply follow wherever my heart takes me.”

“But if we say these guys weren’t as bad as Madarame then-” He had a quizzical expression, one showing there was no logic that would get him to reconsider his choice. So Futaba did a rare thing- she dropped that thought. Her eyes turned back to the painting. “This is something special though. Your mom would be proud.”

The comment caught him off guard, and he felt a stone in his throat. “Ah, yes,” he said, struggling for a suitable response, “I think yours would be as well.”

They stood in silence for a while, in front of the large canvas. “I’ve been surprised by the positive reception honestly,” Yusuke said quietly, “I wasn’t sure if people would be ready to see their own hearts like this.”

“People already know what they look like Yusuke,” Futaba whispered, “Stuff like this just forces them to admit it.”

“Still, it can be worrying. Sometimes I get very afraid people may not glean the right message from what I paint.”

“Death of the author,” Futaba replied, “Once your work is out there your opinion becomes kind of irrelevant.”

He considered her point. “I suppose it worries mw that people might not understand. This is how I express myself after all.”

“Maybe…” She turned to him. “But Ren keeps telling me not to worry about silly stuff. Maybe you need to as well.”

He looked at her, a little petulently. “I don’t think winder interpretations of my art should be seen as ‘silly’.”

“Well, nobody cares,” she bluntly. “Besides,  _ I hunger.  _ If you’re turning down prizes left and right, surely you gotta eat too?”

Yusuke placed a hand on his stomach. His hadn’t been particularly substantial. “Yes, but I’m afraid I lack the funds…”

“Luckily,” she whipped the money out of her pocket, “Our sugar daddy Ren has set us up for delicious crepes! C’mon I think there’s a place near here…”

Tugging on his wrist, she began to drag him out of the gallary. “Sugar daddy?” He repeated blankly. Looking back to  _ Hope and Desire,  _ he had one more thing left to say. “Thank you for coming along Futaba,” he said sincerely, “For too long there weren’t many people I could truly share my passion with.”

She thought back to her quest, to the stares she felt on the train, the panic the felt rushing out of the station. But more than that, another big tick on her promise list.  _ Quest Completed.  _ “Sure,” she replied, “No big deal.”


	3. The Beach

“Okay!” Morgana sang, “What’s on the menu for day three of the BEST TRIP EVER?!”

The cat, perched on the back on the front seats, swivelled around the van, expecting a chorus of suggestions. They had already spent a night camping inside an elaborate cave system in the mountains, took on the fastest roller coaster in the country, and devoured sushi from a cute little village, famous for its fatty tuna! Ren’s send-off was already everything the group could have hoped for and more. What would the next adventure be for the former Phantom Thieves?

Instead he was left with dead eyed stares, asides from Makoto, whose pupils were fixed onto the road. Ann was leaning onto Ryuji, who was leaning onto Ren, who was smushing a struggling Futaba in the corner. Haru was besides the driver, her head lolling downwards at regular intervals, leaving Yusuke at the window, idly taking in the scenery.

Morgana frowned at the lot of them. “Uh, guys?”

Ren stirred, and with Futaba’s assistance as she shoved herself more space, Ryuji was flung into an unprepared Ann. As Futaba took in a large lungful of air, Ann demonstrated Newton’s third law excellently by pushing Ryuji back into Ren, who thankfully for the hacker, was a stood strong and stoic.

“Ouch!” Ryuji glared at Ann. “That was an accident I swear!”

Of course, she didn’t back down. “What do you think I’m gonna do when you’re all over me?!”

“Pfft, you wish I was all over you-”

“Don’t you DARE Sakamato!”

They rolled on into their usual bickering, the other passengers paying no real notice. Ren pressed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I think we’re all a too bit tired to do something big Morgana…”

“Come on Joker,” Morgana shook his head, “This is your big send off! We can’t afford to have any ‘small’ days.”

“Ask Haru what she thinks of that,” Ren offered.

“You agree with me, right Noir?” There was no response from the fluffy-haired heiress. Morgana hopped down beside her, rubbing his nose into the back of her hand. “Come on, don’t let these guys be bor- Ugk!”

In a flash, her other hand wrapped around the cat’s neck. A moment after, she stirred, looking down with a gasp and released her grip. “Oh! Mona I am so sorry, I have no idea what came over me…”

As Morgana tried to cough the pain away, Ren snorted. “See, we all need our beauty sleep, Beauty Thief especially!” Laughing, he leaned over the front seat to soothingly stroke his cat. “Why don’t we just relax for the day?!

“I agree with Joker,” Makoto chimed in, “It’s a lot safer for me to drive refreshed and it wouldn’t hurt for us to slow down a little.”

“Okay…” Morgana croaked, twisting the kinks out of his neck. “But we’re gonna do something totally crazy afterwards, alright?”

Ren smiled. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Relax,” Yusuke mused, swooping over to look at his friends. “I often find the ocean to be relaxing…”

“Way ahead of you Inari,” Futaba said, tapping away on her phone, “There’s a beach a few miles from here that doesn’t look very popular, but it’s still got a café where we can eat.”

“Oh, I could try their coffee!” Haru said excitedly.

“It’s a sandy beach as well,” Futaba chirped, “None of that crap where it’s just filled with rocks.”

“It sounds perfect,” Makoto smiled. “Can you give me directions?”

“It’s this left.” Futaba answered simply, before her eyes widened. “No, I mean THIS EXACT LEFT!”

In a panic Makoto flung the car sideways, and with Ann and Ryuji still oblivious to everything around them, he was flung into her once more. Above the sounds of screeching tires, the group could faintly hear, “RYUJI IF YOU’RE GRABBING WHAT I THINK YOU’RE GRABBING YOU ARE DEAD MEAT!”

* * *

 

Makoto was supremely embarrassed by the critical acclaim offered for her sensational drifting (with Ann’s silence speaking volumes), but it was all forgotten when they reached the beach. She had been completely correct earlier- it was perfect. Somehow a wide stretch of stunning coast had been left unnoticed by the general public, save by the kindly old couple who ran a small little beach hut-come-café, with benches and parasols strewn around the vicinity. It was hot, the sun high in the sky with no clouds in sight, and they were all very thankful they had the foresight to pack their swimming costumes.

“Last one in’s a rotten egg!” Ryuji shouted, starting a sprint to the water, Makoto surprisingly competing against him for pace.

In fact, the only people left behind were Futaba, wearing a long hooded sweatshirt over her swimsuit, and Yusuke. She looked up to the taller boy, clad in white shorts with a grey hooded jacket. “Why aren’t you with them?” She asked, somewhat suspiciously.

He jumped somewhat, startled that somebody else stayed behind. “I have very sensitive skin,” he explained, “The last time I was uncovered at noon during the summer was… Unpleasant, to say the last.” Still cringing, he sat at the bench they were near, shaded by a cheerful parasol. “Since we’ve neglected to bring any sunscreen on this trip, I would feel a lot safer swimming when the sun is lower.”

“We have?” Futaba questioned. “C’mon, forgetting things isn’t really part of Makoto’s programming.”

Yusuke stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, that is an astute observation. Still, the keys to the van remain on her person. Shouldn’t we…?” Silence. Even in the shade the heat was immense, and the pair were perhaps the least athletic of the entire group. Now that they were sat, the distance to the ocean seemed formidable.

“Well I suppose that’s our answer.” Yusuke said finally. “I assume your skin is similarly soft?”

Futaba jolted to attention. “W-what are you assuming about my skin?!”

He looked at her oddly. “Soft to sunlight? As is mine?”

She glared at him. Why can’t Inari speak like a normal person, she thought angrily. Her words came out at a frenzied pace. “If you must know, high-energy photons can cause damage to my skin cells since I haven’t gotten sufficient exposure to them.”

He tilted his head.

She sighed. “My skin’s sensitive too. Years of being a shut in, remember?”

“Ah,” Yusuke nodded, “I fear extended sessions in the atelier may have similarly caused my affliction.”

She rolled her eyes. “You would have completely understood that sentence if you didn’t go to a dumb art school.”

“Kosei isn’t an art school in particular,” Yusuke corrected, “Although I do admit I have trouble following the less expressive programs of study.”

“But you still have to do some science?” Futaba laughed. “I bet your grades are hilarious!”

“They’re not particularly noteworthy,” he said with surprising candour, “But I have to follow the curriculum, for my scholarship, if not for my future.”

“Heh, I bet you’ve gotten worked up about the colours on the diagrams being totally unaesthetic.” Futaba cackled. A blush from her bluenette friend told her she hadn’t been to off the mark. “Future huh…” She wondered aloud. “You’re already thinking about that stuff?”

“Naturally,” He replied, “I am a third year now after all. There are certain decisions that need to be made rather soon. Though in all honesty I think my course is already set.”

“Really?” Futaba asked. If there was anyone who gave the impression of lacking any sort of preparation for their future, it was Yusuke. This was the man who never budgeted for lunch after all. “What’s Inari’s big plan then?”

“Nothing grand. Tokyo is where the best institutions for the arts are found, so Tokyo is where I’ll stay. I have to admit, Boss’ coffee was another reason…”

“The universities there are pretty hard to get into y’know,” Futaba warned, “might want to get those grades up. Even in the ‘ugly’ subjects.”

“If I’m accepted into an institution it would be beneficial,” he admitted, “A chance to mingle with talented artists, opportunities learn about new techniques, to go abroad and learn from other cultures…” But he simply shrugged. “But my work speaks for itself. I’m sure I’ll be accepted, and if not, subsist on the generosity of the city’s patrons to the arts.”

“If you ever learn how to make money out of it…” Futaba mumbled.

“Hm?”

She sighed. Guess you’re finally gonna speak your mind. “Look, Yusuke, your paintings and stuff are great, and this is me that’s coming from! That’s a big deal by the way. But some day you’re gonna have to learn how to sell it.”

A resigned sadness shimmered over his eyes. “I suppose our worth in society is defined by the monetary value we can generate…”

It’s more about no money = no food, shelter, or video games, Futaba thought.

He suddenly shook his head vigorously. “But the Phantom Thieves cast society’s expectations aside! So no. I already declined to make any proceeds from Hope and Desire. I am sure I’ll be-”

“There are a thousand hobos over the city that started out saying the same thing Inari!” She exclaimed. Futaba sometimes found her friend’s fanciful nature to be sort of fun, after a few months of getting used to it, but she felt the need her to inject some reality into his life. “Look, Yusuke, at some point soon you aren’t going to have any scholarship, and then you’re gonna have to be looking after yourself. What’s wrong with making some cash to keep you going?”

“I will not be like Madarame.” His outburst was forceful, and unexpected. “He turned art into a commodity, something to be whored out and cast to those who barely even appreciate it!” He frowned with real anger, a rare sight, boring a hole into the wood of the bench. “I will not let any work of mine become tainted as the Sayuri was…”

Okay, Futaba had ended up waaaaaaaaaaaay too deep here. Her Key Item should be here to step in and smooth everything over. But he was far away in the water, and with a squint, currently occupied keeping Ann on his shoulders while she grappled with Makoto, who was perched on Ryuji’s. This was a mess she needed to get herself out of. “Looking after yourself doesn’t make you a whore you know!” She said quickly. He looked up to her, considering her words. “All I’m saying is you need a name for yourself. Alibaba has a ton of job offers, Medjed too before, well, everything. What does Yusuke Kitagawa have?”

His expression was certainly indignant. “I have featured in several newspaper-”

She threw up her hands. “Nobody reads those anymore!” He shrunk, and she felt something bad in her heart, something she didn’t enjoy one bit. “Come on, I already said your work was good…” She struggled to find the right thing to say, before an idea struck her. “I know! Why don’t I make you a website?!”

Yusuke’s recoiled immediately at the suggestion. It was far too similar to Kozue’s obsession with fame and recognition. “Surely this is the grandstanding I was just speaking out against.”

“But just think! Right now you’re a talented dude. But a university would be way more excited to get a talented dude with a few hundred-” (Thousand, she thought) “Fans that’ll spread a good word! They might even fight over you! You could get a free room, or a scholarship, or equipment…”

She kept listing off benefits, but her point about equipment stuck in Yusuke’s mind. I could get the finest brushes, a canvas as pure as ivory... He dragged himself out of his daydream. “No! I can’t let myself be consumed by greed!”

“It’s not being consumed by greed,” Futaba said with much exasperation, “it’s…” She pondered for an example and found one close to home. “So Sojiro loves making coffee and curry, right?” Her friend nodded. “You could say that’s his art right?” Yusuke nodded along with this too. “But you don’t see him giving away anything at the shop do you?”

“On the contrary, Boss often gifts me both when I am there...”

“Well, you’re a friend- no, that’s not the right word… Charity case.” Futaba decided, to Yusuke’s displeasure. “All his regulars are paying, how else would the shop stay open?”

“Considering how often he grumbles about his finances I have wondered about the café’s stability…”

“Oh that’s just a Sojiro thing to do,” she waved away, “But just think about all the people like him, and then the artists you love. All of them have found a way to turn their passion into profit, even me!”

“Oh?” Yusuke replied. “How is it you are making a profit?”

“Well not right now per say,” Futaba said smoothly. “But I’ve got certain digital payloads ready to launch in case LeBlanc actually does need a cash injection.”

“Fascinating…” Yusuke supposed it was true. With unprecedented independence looming, more self-reliance would be required, and it was also true many of the artists he admired were commercially successful, without diving into the realms of Madarame’s madness. But then he recalled Kozue’s grin, ever smug, ever hungry. He sighed. “I’m still apprehensive of falling for the same trap as my mentor. I have already kissed the dizzying arrogance of fame as a Phantom Thief. Why would I not fall for the same pitfalls again?”

“Because you’ve been there before, because you’re not as dumb as Madarame,” Futaba listed off pointedly, “and finally, you’ve got us to make sure you’re head doesn’t get too big.” She pointed to the rest of the group in the water, who had conjured a beach ball which was whizzing around the shore. “You think those guys are gonna let you go around and be an asshole? We’re the Phantom Thieves for crying out loud!”

The revelation was a welcome one, one he was mildly disappointed he needed help to come to. He was not like Madarame, for the simple reason he had good friends around him, friends who understood justice, who wouldn’t let him withdraw and twist into a shadow of himself. But while Futaba had rather effectively worn down his apprehensions, they hadn’t entirely disappeared. “But what would I even put on a website?” He threw at her. “What would be its purpose?”

“It could be anything! It’s… It’s like a canvas you can change whenever you want!”

His eyes lit up. An ever shifting piece of art. How intriguing…

“Yeah, we can make it a place where you put up your work, archive your older stuff. Or, we could make it more like a blog, then you can comment on other stuff you see around the internet, like pictures, or TV, means you’d be able to put up poetry or whatever lame shit you’re into-”

Yusuke attempted to cut in. “Poetry is a beautiful-”

“And I would make a bunch of kickass graphics for you, and we can make sure those change like every week, to keep things fresh. Then add a comments section so people can tell you what they think…”

“I have to admit,” Yusuke considered, “There does seem to be potential in this proposal.”

“That’s not even half of the cool stuff we could do!” I’ll tell him about printed mugs and fridge magnets later, she decided. It was better to not overwhelm him with the commercial implications of the website so soon. Would he go for a 60-40 split? Probably. Then again maybe I shouldn’t take too much advantage…

“All decisions on the appearance and content of this website would require my final say, correct?”

“Totally,” Futaba assured. “It’s not like my taste matches with what you’d want to be on there. I’d just put up a bunch of memes.” His eyes widened in horror. “Which I wouldn’t because I’d run it by you first!” She clarified quickly, not wanting the ruin all the good work she had wrung out of her modest persuasion stat.

He quietly went over the proposal. There would certainly be benefits from this investment, he thought, and Futaba is certainly skilled enough to manage the technical aspects. His mind pictured the Sayuri, and the intense feelings his mother’s painting always evoked, even before he knew of its true nature. Perhaps with a greater audience, I may be better able to stir those feelings in somebody else… It was the grandest goal in his art to inspire others, to make for someone else what the Sayuri was for him, because he knew artists were created from the work they themselves had loved. It was how he could repay the world for giving him such a beautiful purpose in life.

“I would like to take some time to design the appearance of this website,” Yusuke decided, “Plan its content and message. And how would it be navigated…?”

Futaba could barely suppress the self-satisfaction in her voice. “So you’re in?!”

“I make no promises,” he clarified, “If in actuality the project seems sour, at odds with how I wish to create and distribute my work, then this partnership will cease.”

“You’re so in!” Futaba grinned. “Don’t worry Yusuke, I’m gonna make you the greatest portfolio ever, with ad revenue to match!”

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” she flatly dismissed.

The sun was lower in the sky now, but still dangerously hot. The pair were content still to watch the rest of their friends playing around in the water, hearing the occasional screech or indignant yelp when an unspoken rule for whatever game they were playing was broken.

“So, with all this talk of my future, I am wondering what hangs in yours Futaba?” Yusuke asked suddenly. Watching Ren had brought up the thought that his absence would affect his ‘little sister’ the most of them all.

“Hmm? Oh, school I guess,” she said like it was the most painful thing in the world.

“But of course,” Yusuke said, “I’m assuming you’re enrolling into Shujin?”

“I mean Kosei let you join,” she said matter-of-factly, “so it didn’t seem like a great option for my education.”

He let that rude comment slide off him. I am becoming rather good at that, he thought. “I imagine Ann and Ryuji’s presence is also welcome?”

“I guess. Ryuji said he would beat the crap out of any bullies. Ann said she would too but that wasn’t nearly as convincing.” She shrugged. “Meh. Honestly, it being Ren’s school made me wanna go there. Besides, if that dork could get top of the class, imagine how easy it’ll be for me?”

Yusuke smiled softly. “My, you sound rather confident. Even with significant talent however, it’s difficult to go three years without any missteps.”

“Two,” Futaba corrected.

“You’re enrolling as a second year?”

“I am only a year younger than the rest of you y’know! Makoto and Haru aside I mean.” She slumped. “I really wanted to go straight into third year, I know I’d be more than able to handle the classes, but Sojiro said I have to get the ‘proper high school experience’. He wanted me to start from year one for crying out loud!”

Yusuke hummed. “I can imagine school being quite the drag for someone of your intelligence.”

It was a small compliment that wasn’t even intended, but it immediately yanked Futaba from her latent frustration. “It’s gonna be, but I know that I’ve gotta get better at dealing with people, even if that’s gonna suck as well. Least it means you guys can beta test life after graduation for me. I’m gonna want to see some comprehensive data, alright!”

“I’ll be sure to take notes for you,” Yusuke chuckled.

“Yeah, school’s gonna be fine,” Futaba said, only to herself. Her friend caught a nervous edge in her voice. “It’s only other people. Scary people. Kids that don’t know any better. Kids that would do anything to anybody to get a laugh. Especially to the weird little redhead that’s come out of nowhere. It’s going to be fine.”

It wasn’t going to be fine, if life followed the same path her tone of voice did. “Classmates can be cruel, I have seen that for myself,” Yusuke said, pricking Futaba’s ears. “In the beginning of my time at Kosei there were many mumblings about, as they put it, ‘Madarame’s Rent Boy’.” He spat out the memory of his previous title. “I was withdrawn and didn’t partake in any elements of school society, so unlike Ren, I never did really make a case for myself that was contrary to the preconceptions.”

“So how did you deal with that?” Futaba found herself asking.

“I never cared about what they thought,” he said simply, “I only cared for my work and honing my skills.”

Futaba rolled her eyes. “Everyone always says that! That the key to life to not give a shit. Well maybe that doesn’t work for everybody!” Her arms were crossed tightly, as she lamented the world for so unfairly making her how she was. _ I can’t just shake things off like they don’t matter. Why can’t I be that cool? _

With how hostile she knew her body language was, she was surprised when Yusuke kept talking in a calm, even tone. “Even if you are physically unable to ignore their stares, if you focus on your work may allow you to ignore them. It can also change other people’s perception of you.”

“What do you mean?”

“There were rumours and other assumptions already made about me. Yet, through my art, people caught a glimpse of my passion. Some began to ask me about my paintings, and I discussed that with them in detail. Eventually fervour behind the rumours died down, and while I know they haven’t entirely disappeared, to compensate there are now a few individuals at Kosei I am happy to discuss my work and other things with, even if we aren’t particularly close.”

She could appreciate what he was getting at a little, but she still shook her head in response. “C’mon Inari, you guys are artists, if you don’t talk about your work it’s kinda pointless. People don’t exactly flock to the know-it-all who’s wrecking everybody else in the test scores.”

“They do when they need to improve their grades. My classmates do on occasion ask for my input on their projects. Asides from which,” Yusuke continued, “I feel your interests would be far more conducive to making friends than mine are.”

“Really?” Futaba responded, unconvinced. “’Nerd who dies alone’ is a stereotype for a reason y’know.”

“But with manga, video games, and ugh, internet memes,” he shook his head in distaste, “You have common threads of interest you can use to band together with potential companions. Like that Mishima fellow for instance.”

“The NPC?” Futaba questioned. “It’s not as easy as that y’know, like what if everybody in class has terrible terrible taste? That’s even worse!”

“Then I suggest not provoking unnecessary conflict.”

That is so not happening. “Okay, imagine someone in your class said the Sayuri was trash?” Yusuke said nothing, but there was a violent twitch of one side of his body. “See?! Not that people with those kind of tastes deserve to be friends with us anyway.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Yusuke conceded. “Not liking the Sayuri…” He shuddered, but then looked directly at Futaba. “Nevertheless, I’m sure Shujin won’t be as horrible as you might expect. Everyone here should be able to assist you with any difficulties you may face.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, turning to look at everybody else in the sea, “I suppose you’re-”

The group weren’t in the sea anymore. They were walking, no, running back up to the parasols. Together they all bundled underneath one of the umbrellas, sans Makoto and Ren, who kept running towards the van. Futaba and Yusuke looked on in silence, in awe of the redness shining over everyone’s skin.

“How did you forget suncream?!” Ann moaned.

“Makoto should have remembered,” Ryuji hissed.

“I HEARD THAT!” A voice much shriller than normal snapped back.

“Well it’s true!” he mumbled.

Haru’s smile was rigid, and not really a smile at all. “Don’t worry, when they come back with the Aloe Vera lotion we’ll all be fine…”

“How could my paws even get burned?!” Morgana whimpered.

Ren and Makoto came back from the van in silence, each carrying all the skincare products they could find. Wordlessly, Ann snatched the first bottle she could, holding it high against her head and squeezing as much as she could out onto her skin. “Hey, leave some for us!” Ryuji cried.

“My skin is my job okay!” She snapped back. He tried snatching at the bottle, inevitably leading to skin on skin contact that made both of them yelp in pain. “Watch it you moron!”

The scene only escalated from there, the former Phantom Thieves forgetting any of their previous camaraderie. While Futaba was finding this totally hilarious, and Yusuke was having trouble stopping his lips from curving into a smile, they were both fully aware as the only people not sunburned, they would suffer violent retribution if they provoked the group any further. An escape was required “Y’know the sun’s lower in the sky now…” Futaba whispered.

Yusuke nodded. “Shall we…?”

“I’ll grab the beach ball,” she replied quietly.

“I’ll grab some sunscreen.” He affirmed.

Eventually after much arguing over the soothing lotion, peppered with accusations about whose job it was to remember about sunscreen in the first place, the teenagers were spread out across the parasols dotted around the café, all trying to find ways to sit that didn’t feel too sore. Something felt off, so Ren looked around. “Where are Yusuke and Futaba?” He wondered aloud.

Everyone lazily craned their necks, eventually finding the pair in the sea, the shallow in the water so it was only up to their ankles, awkwardly passing the beach ball between one another. Unsurprisingly, both spilled it on numerous occasions, prompting a laboured shuffle to the ball so it wasn’t lost to the sea, before resuming their stunted passing.

“If I wasn’t so annoyed they weren’t suffering with us, I would’ve called them adorable.” Ann commented, trying to rest her head on top of a table and cursing when it’s touch stung her skin.

“Yeah,” Ren said, smiling despite his discomfort. “I’m gonna miss them…”


	4. The School

Waking up at 7am; an odd and horrible experience. Sojiro had told her she needed to get her sleeping pattern on track, since she was going to start living on a schedule soon. She said she would, but of course, nights on her computer stretched longer than they should have, and in the end, she was forced to resort to a training session with Ryuji to tire her into a before-midnight slumber. She was now filled with regret.

Her alarm stopped. _Wait,_ she thought groggily, _I didn’t do that…_ It started again, and she realised, the chiptune beeps weren’t the digitized airhorns she had set for her alarm. That was her ringtone. Scrambling blindly without her glasses, she clawed at her bedside table, accepting the call without registering the caller ID. “Whoever this is, I’m gonna trace your number and end you,” she droned.

A soft chuckle came from the other end. “You’ve already bugged everything I own Futaba, I’m not sure what else I have to lose.”

“A lot Ren,” she replied, trying to hide her relief for hearing his voice, “Sure, Japan thinks you’re just a poor young man messed around by the justice system right now, but I could probably make them think you’re into like, old maids or some other perverted stuff.”

“Heh, heh…” It was early, but Futaba swore she heard a nervousness in his voice. “Anyway, I just wanted to check you were all ready for your first day of school.”

“By making me wake up twenty minutes earlier than I wanted?”

“Just have to be sure here, being late on my first day didn’t do me any favours.”

“Didn’t you get a kickass Persona because of that?”

“That was a very specific circumstance!”

“I don’t even know why you’re all so worried,” Futaba said, shrugging off her covers and stretching her free arm, “It’s not like I never went to school before. Ryuji kept looking at me like I was a crippled kitten.”

“He told me you had a session with him yesterday, apparently it didn’t go so well...”

“It got me to sleep early, so I’ll call it a success,” she said unconvincingly.

Ren sniggered. “I don’t think lasting only ten minutes on a running machine can ever be called a success.”

“Oh quiet, you.” She swung her legs over the edge of her bed to stand and get to her dresser, but her foot on the ground didn’t feel very stable already. “Shoot, it left me with a status ailment.”

“LeBlanc coffee should set you right.” Ren offered, rumblings on his end of the line indicating he was getting ready for the day as well. “I imagine Sojiro is going to make you a particularly potent curry to go with it.”

“He was even worse than Ryuji.” she moaned, stumbling for the dresser. “The whole week he’s been full of _‘Have you got everything you need’_ or _‘If you need me to drive you’_ . Hell, he even said _‘If you’re not ready there’s no pressure’_!”

“Well, he’s just worried about his _precious little girl_!” Ren teased.

“That’s pretty obvious, I am an absolute treasure.”

“But seriously,” Ren said a little more seriously. “This is a big moment for him.”

“I know, I know,” Futaba sighed.

“Just let him do all worrying for you and school will be a breeze.”

“Will you stop worrying about me?! I’m gonna do great, girl genius remember?”

“Girl genius or not,” Ren replied, “If you need any help, promise me you’ll flag Ann or Ryuji down alright?”

“Are they my bodyguards now?” Futaba scoffed as she grabbed her uniform, laid out all on one hanger for maximum efficiency.

“I prefer ‘mobile body pillows’,” Ren offered, “you can lean on them if you want help, y’know? Although they both seemed really excited to slap down anyone who was causing you trouble...”

“Hah, my own personal hit squad!” Futaba cackled. “I’m going to own that school. Wait. Why body pillows?”

“Just trying to relate to you,” he answered, with an audible smirk.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She responded as blankly as she could.

“We all saw inside your closet Futaba,” Ren reminded her, “Not that I’m judging you or anything, but the monster from _that_ series was a really weird-”

Nope, she was not having this conversation. “Goodbye Ren!!!”

She heard a “Good luck!” escape from her phone as she frantically stabbed at the screen break the line. _Freaking nosy Joker, why does he even remember that?!_ She grumbled to herself.

After getting herself dressed, she took a look in the mirror. She didn’t wear skirts, so it did feel a little strange to her, even with thick black leggings, but uniform was uniform. At least she could still wear a tank-top and her usual shoulderless number under her blazer, which itself was hidden beneath her coat. As always, her oversized headphones were her closest companion, and would be a blessing in the subway.

“See, you look like a student,” she told herself, “so being one should probably be easy now…”

Shuffling, still dealing with feeble legs and a fuzzy brain, she made her way out of the house and over to LeBlanc. It was a ritual she was used to at this point, but later on in the day. Sometimes as she walked through the Yongen-Jaya streets she marvelled at the idea she found those streets terrifying not too long ago. Even the people bustling around this early in the morning seemed completely harmless.

“ARF!”

As tired as Futaba was, she sprinted the rest of the way to LeBlanc, slamming the door behind her as she entered. A loud stray was more than enough to break her new equilibrium.

“Futaba?!” She turned from the door to see her guardian, behind the counter of the coffee shop, looking understandably alarmed. “Did anything happen, what’s wrong?!”

“D-D-Dog…” She said shakily, slinking to her usual spot in front of the counter, Sojiro eyeing her with real concern, which the tried to shrink away from. “Hunger.” She said tiredly.

Slowly, he turned back to the stove, returning to place down a steaming pile of curry with rice. A mug of coffee was soon joined it. Futaba began eating in silence, avoiding her guardian’s gaze. “You know you don’t have to go if you don’t want to right?” Her guardian said finally. “You’ve made so much progress over the last few months, besides all of the business with your, uh, ‘Club’....” He stared at his charge, hoping for a response that he wasn’t really expecting. “Look, school can be a scary place, I understand that. I mean, it’s been years, but I remember how tough it can be. Hell, by how Ren makes it sound it hasn’t gotten any better with time. What I’m saying is I don’t want you to be put under-”

“Dad.”

His words failed him.  He saw her plate was completely cleared, and she was already pushing her seat away from the counter.

“Going to school now,” she stated as an anticlimax, strolling out of the door without so much as a second glance at her foster father.

Sojiro stared at the door for more than a few moments after she left, before taking off his glasses to rub his eyes. “Tsk, that girl,” he said with a small smile.

_The D-bomb remains effective,_ Futaba noted as she made her way to the station. _I do need to coach him on making a good pep-talk though, he almost threw me off!_ It was only school after all. Sure, she historically had issues of dealing with other people, and kids were certified experts at being bastards, but for someone as smart as her, somebody who could handle whole dungeons full of monsters whilst simultaneously probing cybersecurity networks, how hard could it be?

* * *

 

Hard. **Very** hard.

Getting introduced to the class by the teacher made her want to shrink up inside. Her desk being in the middle, where people would all stare at her from behind (She was sure of it!) was horrible. Then, to top it all off, she blurted out the answer to a question without thinking to raise her hand first, earning a stern reprimand from the teacher, before even worse, being informed her answer was wrong. “While Prometheus was indeed imprisoned by the gods as you say, it was not for eternity, as they were eventually freed by Heracles. Perhaps you’ll learn you slow down and think in this class, hmm Miss Sakura?”

The teacher’s jibe didn’t get many giggles from the class at all, but to Futaba, even such a small response sounded like a hurricane. _You_ **_KNEW_ ** _that Futaba and now you look like an idiot on your first day!_ She could only focus on the empty workbook sat in front of her. _Why do you even care what these bozos think of you anyway?! Wait… Are they looking  at me? Well I don’t care anyway! But what are they thinking? They don’t even know me, except for me FUCKING UP IN FRONT OF EVERYONE. My life here isover alreadyIwishIcould gohomeandeatcurryanddieandcurlupanddieand-_

“Um, Miss Sakura isn’t it?”

Futaba leapt out of her chair, staring at the classmate who had managed to approach her. “Y...yes?” She was shivering.

The girl’s eyes widened, which with her small bob haircut, made it appear as if they took up most of her face. “Sorry if I startled you, it’s just, lunch period started five minutes ago and you hadn’t moved…”

_She thinks I’m a freak,_ was the conclusion Futaba came to. She stood, trying to think of what to do, before suddenly deciding to grab her things and sprint out of the classroom without another word. The crowd of students in the hallway didn’t stop her, even if they were trying their best to. In hindsight, her eyes were squeezed almost shut, as she barrelled in between conversations and bumped into various other students. Eventually she managed to cannonball into the (girls?) bathroom, and locked herself into the first stall she could find.

_Solitude. Finally._

The buzzing on her phone however told her that in 20XX, there was no such thing as solitude. Shakily, she pulled her phone out of her pocket, seeing texts from almost everyone. Words of encouragement from Makoto and Haru, requests for an update from Ren (and Morgana), and worst of all, strings of messages from Ann and Ryuji- they were looking for her. She couldn’t reply, not in this state. She had failed them. She had failed them all. She told them and herself she was ready to start at Shujin and take it by storm, but she was already having a crisis on her first day! It was just pathetic, really, and she didn’t have the energy to pretend otherwise, even via text.

No, she would just swipe those notifications away, go find a way out of the school, and go back to what she was good at- hiding in her room.

But as she put her finger to her phone’s screen, she received a call, and as luck would have it, she was pressing the green icon before she realised she was meant to be hitting the red.

“Ah, Futaba,” a grateful voice, Yusuke’s voice, answered, “thank you for picking up so quickly, I hope you’re not busy, I have a query for you.”

_Inari?!_ Why was he calling? And why _now?!_   “‘S fine,” she found herself saying, “Go ahead.”

“Well, I was thinking more about this website. It still needs a name does it not?”

_Oh yeah, that thing…_ “Well I dunno,” she mumbled, “It’s your dumb project.”

“You were the one who suggested the idea,” Yusuke reminded her, “And I do imagine you have a better idea of what would cause a good impact, so to speak. The online world is your realm, not mine.”

“Well, I don’t care,” Futaba spat. She did’nt feel like entertaining any his, well, _Yusuke_ , right now. “Do what you want. I’m hanging up n-”

“Is something wrong?” Genuine concern, that managed to halt her from disconnecting the call. “May I ask, what day is it?”

The question threw her. “Inari, how can you not even know what day it is?!”

“I have been rather absorbed in the design of this website,” he admitted, Futaba hearing the scribbling of a pencil underneath his words, “Sometimes I find it difficult to keep track of such things.”

_Been there I suppose._ “Well, it’s Monday,” she informed him, slinking down to sit on the toilet seat, “but you’re a dumbass, that phone you’re calling me on could’ve told you that without bothering me!”

She was hoping the comment would offend him into hanging up, but her efforts went unnoticed. “Monday…” He pondered. “Aha! It’s your first day at Shujin, is it not!” He sounded annoyingly satisfied at working it out. But at the other end of the line, Yusuke was sat on the floor, in amongst sheets of paper strewn around his bedroom. He was actually feeling less than satisfied. _Oh dear,_ he thought, _she’s being abrasive because…_ “Has it been more difficult than you anticipated?” He tried to broach.

His question lacked a fair bit of tact, but once again, there was something in his voice, maybe it was the concern, or something that Futaba didn’t quite understand, that coaxed some feelings out of her. “I guess,” she admitted, drawing her knees up to her chest. “I got something wrong and the teacher picked on me and everybody in the class looked at me and this girl snuck up on me and scared me and now I’m in a bathroom stall.”

“I see,” Yusuke nodded, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Well, it could have been worse.”

Futaba rolled her eyes, even though her friend couldn’t see them. “Like what?”

“You could have been assaulted on the way there,” he offered. Futaba rubbed her eyes in disbelief. “Or slipped into a puddle in front of the student body. Or called your teacher ‘mother’, I imagine that would be mortifying.”

“Is this meant to be comforting?!” Futaba moaned. “Now I’m just thinking that all that stuff will happen tomorrow!” She heard a loud hum through her phones speaker, Yusuke trying to work out what the correct thing to say would be, although it had to be said, his complete ineptitude at this was actually making her feel a little better, for comedy value at least.

“What about comparing to Ren’s first day there?” He tried. “If I recall wasn’t he almost killed by the gym teacher’s shadow?”

“Already had this discussion with him,” she replied, “I thought since it meant he got his Persona that actually counted as a good first day.”

“Well I suppose that may be true,” he replied thoughtfully. “What about my face day at Kosei as a comparison? That was less than pleasant.”

“What happened?”

“To evaluate the new students in their art department, we were all tasked with creating an original piece in an hour, then presenting our work and discussing the purpose behind it. I tried to create an impressionist piece, but our instructor and most of the class were convinced it could only be defined as modernist.”

Futaba stayed quiet for a few moments. “... And? What’s the difference?”

“Well it was incredibly disappointing that I seemed to overlook what key aspects separate those movements, but I maintain my audience were-”

“Oh my goooood, you are so bad at this!” Futaba complained, but with a smile.

“I apologise,” Yusuke agreed, “What comfort is one supposed to be offering in these situations?”

“Really? You’re asking the reknowned shut-in that question?”

“Touche,” he granted, “I should probably text Ren…”

“No, no Ren!” She had just maybe started to feel better, and she still wanted the chance to pretend that the day had gone by without a hitch. “I dunno, maybe you’re supposed to offer something relatable? Like something the other person would actually understand, not one of your weird tangents.”

“I see, relatable, relatable…” He snapped his fingers. “Remember Haru’s father’s palace?”

That threw her. “Uhhhh, sure?”

“Remember how our first expedition left three of us unconscious, and us abandoning our fight for the night after only a scant few encounters?”

Besides from some of the larger enemies they faced, that was the time the Thieves felt sure they weren’t going to make it. Everything was wrong, their equipment, their tactics, their attitude, everything. “I remember having to help Makoto carry Ryuji back to the entrance,” she replied coolly, but wincing at the memory, “so yeah, I remember.”

“But do you remember our second attempt?” Yusuke continued. “I remember you saying specifically ‘How the hell did we screw up so bad last time!’.”

“Ren retooled our setup and then it was no sweat…” Futaba started nodding. “So you’re saying I need to do the same here?”

“I suppose I am,” he replied, audibly pleased with his suggestion, “You have a new knowledge now of the Shujin experience, which will hopefully come in handy.”

Futaba thought back to a few of their triumphs. “I guess our lives were just like a videogame for a while, weren’t they? Endless dungeon crawling, and it took a few retries…” Anxiety suddenly flared up within her. “But school isn’t like a videogame, people are far too unpredictable for that! How am I supposed to think everything’s going to be okay?!”

“Believe in yourself Futaba.” A common platitude, but coming from him, it did make her pause. “In the past I’ve trusted you with the lives of people I care about, as well as my own. I am certain of your safety in your own good hands.”

Endless compliments. Thank god she was in a place where noone could see her blush. _Okay, he’s right though,_ she thought, _I am smart, I am capable, I am amazing, and there’s no reason to think I can’t handle this place. Today kinda sucked, but people aren’t gonna stare at me forever. A new new kid’s gotta come along some time! And I’m not gonna get every question wrong, and if I do, who cares! Well, me, but I’ll try to live with that. And since I’m not gonna space out all the time, people aren’t gonna sneak up on me anymore!_ She actually felt hopeful. Excited to get back to things, even if they shoved her back on her ass.

Obviously she couldn’t let Yusuke know he actually did a really good job, so she settled with telling him “Y’know, I actually feel better.”

“Oh!” He said in surprise. “Excellent. I hope your day carries on without incident, I must-”

“Wait!” Futaba stopped him from hanging up. Didn’t want to leave a loose thread. “You said you called about the website? You also said you were losing track of time designing it.”

“True on both counts. I was wanting to conceptualize a name for the website, but in that, I realised that name needs to harmonise with what the website actually is. I started researching what the typical structure of a website is, but I became admittedly lost in the possibilities…”

“Such as?”

“How should the header of the website look, the buttons to navigate to other pages. Does the design stay uniform, or does it shift across different works, to accentuate their different moods? Can there be animations? Should there be sound? Classical music to stimulate contemplation, perhaps?” Futaba could practically her his gesticulations on the other end of the line. “Not to mention the simpler elements, what illustrations or graphics to use as the background, or perhaps a simple matt colour would be more refined…”

“I’m glad you’re getting into it!” Futaba grinned. Her joy at her idea being taken on board was subdued by a dawning realisation. He was asking for a **lot** , and he had no idea how that would actually be implemented. That was her job. _Why did I make this pact again?_ She wondered idly.

The school bell brought her back to the present. “Oh! Sorry Yusuke, I’m gonna have to jet.”

“I understand,” he said, but still unable to hide his impatience. “Perhaps we could meet at LeBlanc this week to discuss my ideas?”

“You got it! And Yusuke? Thanks.” She hung up on him, embarrassed enough without having to hear his response. With a deep breath, she unlocked the stall, and burst back out into the world. Which promptly spooked her _again_ when she was face to face with another student. “AHHH!”

But the cry was in unison, the other girl shrinking away just as she did. They began apologising profusely. “I’m sorry I just turned around at the wrong time and I wasn’t expecting you and oh god I did this earlier didn’t I oh no…”

The girl came into focus, and Futaba’s brain started working again. “You’re the girl from earlier, aren’t you?”

She nodded timidly. “Yes, and I’m sorry for startling you then, especially on your first day. I’m not really good with people…”

_Just like me…_ Futaba nodded, and let a small smile form. “That’s okay. C’mon, let's get to class.” She guided her still nervous classmate to the bathroom door. “I’m Futaba Sakura by the way.”

* * *

Sojiro was polishing the same spot on the counter he had been for the past half an hour. _When on earth is that girl getting home?!_ He had been expecting her around now anyway, but that didn’t help at all, especially with how she had been acting this morning. Considering she hadn’t responded to his messages, all of the world’s ills could have fallen upon her in that damn high school and he had no way of knowing!

He had pulled out his car keys to go over to the school himself when she finally came through the shop door, so he hastily hid them behind his back. He fought to keep the concern out of his voice. “Hey, how was your first day?"

She took a seat in one of the booths, with a smug smile on her face. “Good, yeah. No big deal.”


	5. Design and Release

“ _The Fox’s Den_?”

“No.”

“Hmm… _The Gallery of My Soul_?”

“... Apt, but then, perhaps, too apt.”

“ _Inari’s dumb stupid website_ then!”

Yusuke rolled his eyes. “Clearly you have given up on providing actual suggestions.”

Futaba threw up her hands. “We’ve been here all night!” She turned her laptop around, so the screen faced Yusuke, sitting opposite. “We’ve got almost everything for the website but this-” She pointed at the empty banner at the top of the screen. “The name!”

“So?” He failed to understand the problem.

“So?! We’ve been ironing out the design of this thing for weeks now, and after all that, you’ve nearly taken another just on it’s name!”

“Impatience is such a reductive trait,” Yusuke chided her.

“There’s impatience and then there’s having to deal with you!” They had spent countless sessions in LeBlanc like this, Futaba tapping away at her keyboard whilst Yusuke pushed drawings on paper across the table, or with him looking over her shoulder, offering slight adjustments and improvements. Despite her having to pare down some of his most outlandish requests ( _No Yusuke, you cannot make a website that operates based on_ **_feelings_ ** _)_ , it was actually quite enjoyable for both of them. For Futaba, this project was much less technical than her usual fare, refreshingly so, and for Yusuke, the website became another canvas, with which he could express himself. Also, while this went unsaid between them, they both found a new kind of fulfillment in using their skills to work together. Specifically with each other, even, however, all insinuations made to this point would be vehemently denied. All this still didn’t stop them butting heads.

Yusuke spoke at a pace that was close to condescending .“The title of the work-”

“ _Website_ ,” Futaba muttered.

“Regardless,” he batted away, “Is how it will be discussed among the people. It must be both striking and elegant, memorable and beautiful, but most of all, **correct**. The site must be its own  name, as much as I am Yusuke Kitagawa.”

“Well Futaba Sakura thinks you need to hurry up already! Things grow into their names. The Phantom Thieves sounded dumb at first but we made it work.”

“The _Sayuri_ was the correct name from its inception,” Yusuke countered, “ _Mona Lisa, The Starry Night,_ names that will endure for eternity. There is no harm in taking the time to ensure this website will leave a similar legacy.”

“The harm might be coming soon,”  Futaba grumbled. Gripping the table, she closed her eyes, and exhaled. “Oooh-kay. Let’s go back to basics. The website is blue, black, and white,” she demonstrated, reaching over the table to her keyboard, and scrolling through pages for Yusuke’s benefit, “With quite frankly amazing animations, designed by yours truly, as you move through the artwork.”

The artist smiled as he watched the strips of colour dance behind the high-resolution scanned images of his artwork. “It’s a rather wonderful effect. The ability for me to select a more suitable backdrop to complement the colours of certain works was also a masterstroke.”

“Again, by yours truly,” she smiled smugly. “C’mon, surely that gives you a hint for what you want it to be called.” Yusuke frowned intently at the screen. Futaba could tell that he really was trying, but that didn’t help her feel any less frustrated. “Okay, let’s try something different, what is it you want to do with your art?”

“I wish to inspire others.” He said firmly.  “Artists are not made in a vacuum, they are produced from the works of others. As The _Sayuri_ inspired me, I hope I could stir those feelings in others…” He smiled. “Even if it was only one individual who was driven to create after appreciating something I have made, all of my work will have been worthwhile. The cycle of artistry can continue.” Looking across the table, he saw Futaba at a loss for words .He chuckled. “I apologise. I don’t think I have ever told anyone about that ambition…”

“No, I get it,” Futaba assured him. It seemed as good a reason as any for his obsession, and his sincerity was kind of… _Cute…_ She finished silently. _Wait?! Yusuke. Cute!?_ “But it doesn’t help us with a name!” She blurted out.

“Hmmm,” Yusuke pondered, blind to her discomfort, “Or perhaps it does… Inspiration, inspire…” His head snapped up. “ _The Font of Inspiration!_ ”

“Poncy and lame.”

“Ah.”  He held his chin. “ _A Stroke of Inspiration?!”_

Futaba was ready to bat the suggestion down, but it actually sounded sort of reasonable. “Stroke, like lighting. And brush strokes. We could work with that…” She tapped her lip and hummed. “Maybe _Inspiration_ is a bit much…”

“ _A Stroke of Beauty?_ ” Yusuke offered. “ _A Stroke of Colour?”_

Futaba threw out her own suggestions. “ _Light? Elegance? Beauty-_ shit we did that one. _”_

“ _Art._ ” Yusuke smiled at his own suggestion, but it faded. “I feel as if _A Stroke of Art_ still lacks something…”

“ _Heart!”_ Futaba said suddenly. “ _A Stroke of Heart!_ All of your paintings come from your heart, plus, it’s not like we haven’t taken a few.”

“ _A Stroke of Heart,_ ” he replied softly, as a satisfied smile grew on his lips. “ _A Stroke of Heart…_ Yes, I believe that will do nicely.”

Futaba pulled the laptop towards herself, tapped at the keys for some short minutes, then pushed it back over to Yusuke. “All set! Figured you should be the one to get it online.”

He nodded to her, satisfied. “I thank you for the privilege.” He stared at the screen. His website. A platform for him to inspire others, share his art with the world. He kept staring. “Hmm, Futaba?”

“Yeah?”

“How does one get a website online?”

His webmaster rolled her eyes. “Hit Enter you dork, I had an instructions tab up and everything!”

“Ah.” With a firm stab of his finger, the page refreshed, and a little green tick popping up told him it had been successful. “It is done!” He spied something next to the page’s banner. “Futaba, what is this number up here?” He asked, turning the screen and pointing to the solitary digit.

“Oh, that’s a page counter! Tells you how many people have visited the site. That ‘1’ there is us!”

“I see. Everything must start from small beginnings I suppose.”

“Exactly,” Futaba said, “but to help with that, I’ll set up a bunch of social media accounts for you. Let's get started, with **this** dorky photo we got from the beach…!”

**Page Viewers: 1**

* * *

“So, you made a website with Yusuke?”

“Yes… We… Diiiii-”

“Hey, hey! Focus on your running!”

Futaba shot her ‘personal trainer’ a sharp glare; short lived since she had to immediately focus on her feet. “You- were- the one… ask-”

Ryuji, not that she could see, rolled his eyes. “Well forget it for now, finish the session.”

“I- can’t.” She wilted to the floor, which on a treadmill isn’t particularly advised. Luckily, Ryuji had already placed a crash mat at the foot of her machine, which she unceremoniously tumbled into.

Her blonde friend calmly slowed his machine to a stop, and stood over the motionless girl. “You did about as well as last time, which isn’t bad going, but I know you could do better.” He held out a hand. “You’ve gotta stop ending your workouts like this.”

“I’ll end your workouts like this in a second,” she wheezed inaudibly, grabbing his hand and letting him pull her upright. “I don’t get- Why the workouts can’t be shorter…”

“Because if they were shorter you still wouldn’t make it to the end. It’s a motivation technique! Not that they’re long right now though,” he added, smirking at the snarl he brought out of her. “The key part is you’re sticking with it. I keep having to lure Ann back with desserts.”

Futaba’s breathing was finally starting to slow down. “Counterproductive, much?”

“Tell me about it,” Ryuji agreed, walking over to the drinks machine. “She barely thanks me, and I’m pretty sure I’m the only reason she keeps getting modelling gigs.” He pointed at the machine, but Futaba shook her head. “Suit yourself. So yeah, what’s with this website thing, saw it on Yusuke’s wall. Did _‘IMPLEMENTED AND CO-DESIGNED BY FUTABA SAKURA’_ need to be in such a big font?”

“Not that a meathead like you would know,” she replied, sticking out her tongue, “but that website is as much Yusuke’s work as it is my own. You think sitting him down and getting him to agree on _anything_ is easy?”

“Good point,” Ryuji conceded, coming back with his drink in hand, “It was bad enough with the Calling Cards.”

“Oh don’t remind me…” Sometimes debates on the calling cards to be sent to the Phantom Thieves’ victims lasted far, far longer than the actual planning for the infiltration.

“So it’s like a portfolio for his work, right? At least, that’s what it looked like.”

“Yeah,” Futaba confirmed, “I figured it might help for him to get the word out there. You know he still comes to LeBlanc all the time for a free meal?” Ryuji snorted. “Plus it might help me out as well. Can’t exactly show all my Alibaba stuff to universities.”

“Ugh, even you’re planning ahead further than me.” Her upperclassman shook his head. “Well, when you and Yusuke are rolling in dough, don’t forget about your favourite unemployed ex-delinquent.”

Futaba smiled. “Only if you share the page!”

“Really dude? Remember that time I saved your life?!”

“Stop bringing that up, nobody cares! Besides I buffed you guys out of certain death tons of times, if anything you’re the one who owes me!”

“Oh sure, when you felt like it…” She was glaring at him again, and not wanting to bother with more bickering, he pulled out his phone, found the website, and hit _share_. He held his phone out as confirmation. “See, all done. Now c’mon, we’ve still got weight training to do…”

“Again?!” Futaba balked. “You told me that was a one time thing!”

“I lied,” Ryuji admitted, gently pushing her away from the running machines. “You told me you wanted a workout, well, that’s what you’re getting…”

**Page Viewers: 23**

* * *

 

“Oh my god, that was delicious…” Ann sank into her chair, blissfully enjoying the food high.

“I concur,” Yusuke smiled, closing his eyes, “This was a marvellous idea, Makoto.”

Makoto smoothed her hair. “Well, I hadn’t tried French cuisine before, and I knew Ann would suggest the best place. I’m happy you were able to come along as well!”

“As am I,” Yusuke said, “although I must admit, on my own funds I would not have been able too…”

“Oh it’s fine,” Ann waved away. “I owed you one for that backdrop you made for that shoot. It was fantastic!”

“Ah, yes, I suppose I should ask Futaba to add it to the website…”

“Oh, I was wanting to ask you about that,” Makoto said. “Futaba sent me a link, and I was really impressed with your paintings on there! I never realised that you’ve made so many.”

“Thank you for saying, and yes, I suppose one of the benefits of being an artist is amassing a collection of your own work.”

Ann looked at him quizzically. “But what made you want to have a whole website? You never seemed like you cared about getting exposure or anything.”

“I’m not,” he agreed, “but Futaba convinced me it would be beneficial to my future, and I must admit, the idea of a wide audience seeing my work is exciting.”

Ann nodded enthusiastically. “It does help you get jobs when people actually know your name, for sure.”

“It’s nice to see you thinking about your future Yusuke,” Makoto said warmly, before sighing. “I wish Ryuji could get your perspective. Every time I mention university to him he shuts down…”

“Maybe it’s because you’re not going about it the right way,” Ann chimed in. “I keep telling him he should find some sport science thing to do and he’s actually gets pretty amped up about it.”

Makoto couldn’t hide her surprise. “Really? He never mentioned that to me...”

The model smirked. “Of course he didn’t, then you would be suggesting courses and recommending universities endlessly to him! We love you as our second mom Makoto, but let him handle this, okay?”

“I-I see…” She turned her attention back to Yusuke. “I can still ‘mom’ Yusuke at least. Have you thought about which universities you’ll be applying for?”

“An institute in Tokyo at the very least,” he answered, “Though Futaba tells me if _A Stroke of Heart_ becomes popular it may be that the universities are going to be pursuing me.”

“Don’t believe everything that girl tells you,” Ann warned, waving a finger. “Sometimes I can’t tell which one of you is more spacey...”

“A reputation is probably essential in the art world however,” Makoto contemplated. “Hey, if you come up with some fliers, I would be happy to put them around my university. The art department has quite a good reputation, maybe you would get some attention from the right people?”

“It’s quite alright,” Yusuke assured her, “I appreciate the offer, but I’m sure a following can be amassed more organically…”

“No, I insist.” She said firmly. “If I can take requests for strangers from the Phan-site I can certainly do a small favour for a good friend.”

“You just want to get him into a good school, don’t you?” Ann giggled at Makoto’s embarrassed silence. “It’s those mom instincts again! I’ll share it with my followers as well,” she said, addressing Yusuke, “Maybe we can do a collaboration sometime, I’ve actually been looking to do some more experimental shoots.”

Both girls were smiling at Yusuke cheerfully, although their gaze did feel a little stifling. The website was only ever supposed to be a small curiosity, yet now his friends were offering all sorts of sacrifices for him, and it. Yet… “I suppose it would be rude to decline assistance from friends…”

“Excellent,” Ann cheered, “a toast then!” The table raised their glasses. “To Yusuke and his future success, and more fancy dinners to come!” As their glasses clinked, the artist couldn’t help but feel a general sense of unease.

**Page Viewers: 156**


	6. Version 1.0

“HOW IN THE NAME OF SAINT ***** ON A ****ING ****** did you screw that up?!?”

Futaba always made sure she saved her online gaming time for when Sojiro was out of the house. It provided a double benefit- he wouldn’t nose in on the inevitable wall shaking yells, and she would only have a certain time window to play, avoiding the dreaded Curse of the Endless Tilt.

Unfortunately for those she played with, it meant she was fully unrestrained, and if you played with Futaba, you were playing Ranked, and no god or mysterious long-nosed attendant could help you if you began harming her place on the leaderboards. A fact Ren knew all too well. “I’m sorry, my hands slipped…”

“Not on the equipment I gave you they didn’t,” Futaba snarled. With her closest-thing-she-had-to-a-brother, and his cat who was also kind of like a brother, both living back in what was assuredly the desolate countryside, Futaba had taken it upon herself to ease what was no doubt a life of poverty. So, she took some of her outdated computer parts, added some more that were dubiously sourced at best, did her magic, and wrapped up a surprise package that Ren had much difficulty carrying up the stairs of his family home. 

She did a really good job with it, it was only half a generation or so from being top of the line, but secretly Ren wished that it wasn’t. He needed all the excuses he could get. “I had council secretary stuff today,” he whined, “I had to write all the minutes of the meeting…”

Futaba was of course, wholly unsympathetic, spinning in her chair as the game they were playing flashed up the end results. “And guess who wrote tons of new code  _ and  _ typed out a dumb history essay today?”

Her teammate audibly winced. “How do you not have arthritis?” 

“Lots of wrist exercises,” She said helpfully. “I’ll send you some videos, we’ve gotta up your game before the monthly tournament.”

“Oh boy,” Ren groaned. He liked hanging out with Futaba in whatever form it had to take, but a Pro Gamer™ he was not, even after all his time with Shinya in the arcade. He had considered introducing him to Futaba to lighten his load, but quickly realised them enabling one another would not be pretty.

“I still don’t get why you’re doing that council stuff anyway,” Futaba went on, “School’s already crappy enough as is, and it’s not like good boy points with Makoto is worth much where you are.”

“I’m just trying to set up my future,” Ren said neutrally, “You should try it sometime.”

“The offshore accounts in the name of Fea Therman are worth way more than you getting handcramp in the back of some club room,” she bit back.

Ren sighed. “You would be a lot easier to get at if you weren’t so frighteningly competent.”

“I am smiling so hard right now,” she replied gleefully. “I’ve also got Yusuke’s website in terms of stuff that’s on the up-and-up so I’m pretty much set.”

“Oh yeah,” Ren said, “I saw that pop up from all the Thieves sharing the hell out of it. All besides Yusuke himself somehow.”

“Obviously,” Futaba muttered. “Honestly, I set him up with the most streamlined PR tools I could, and all he does is stare at the buttons.”

“It is Yusuke,” Ren pointed out.

“It is Yusuke,” Futaba repeated, acknowledging defeat.

“The website looks great though,” he said to her warmly, “In his mind, that’s probably the end of where it needs to be.”

“But he’s so wrong with that though!” Futaba insisted. “The internet is so big now, and a single website isn’t enough. We need to set him up with pages  **everywhere!** That’s the only way to get noticed nowadays.”

“Is that really what Yusuke needs, or even wants?” Ren asks skeptically. “As a place to upload and share his work it’s more then fine. Plus when I went on there he’d already broke a hundred views, that’s amazing!”

“Hundred-schumdred,” she batted away, “The internet has millions and millions of people on there, that should see how great his art is!”

Unknown to Futaba, Ren looked over to Morgana, listening to Futaba’s chatter on the desk, and mirrored his feline grin. “You sound pretty intent on helping out Yusuke here…”

Despite her genius, she completely missed her friend’s teasing. “Well sure, and the merchandising opportunities are going to be through the roof! I still need to convince him on that one though, then again, we can wait until we’ve got a bigger audience… Which reminds me!” She snaps her fingers. “You still haven’t shared  _ A Stroke of Heart _ !”

Ren squirmed in his chair. He had been expecting this. “Well,” he spluttered, “I saw everybody else did and-”

“C’mon, you’re Mr. Tokyo!” Futaba cut in, “A share from you would practically get the whole city to notice!”

While initially being a bit of a meek figure when he arrived into the city, the friendships he build, his breadth of confidants, and the incredible levels of street cred he gained off the back of his arrest and the rumours surrounding their whole group had given him quite the following, although they were all vaguely disappointed that his output mainly consisted of wholesome comments and cat-related content. “That’s the problem,” he admitted. “Futaba, remember when we were running around last year? How we let the fame and glamour get to us a little bit?”

“Oh god not this again,” Futaba groaned, rolling her eyes. “Y’know Yusuke said the same thing.”

“Maybe it’s for a good reason,” Ren pointed out. “I know you have really good intentions here, but I can’t help but think this might get… Complicated. Yusuke can get swept up in things very easily and I’m not sure how good this’ll be for him.”

“Which is why I’m here to help him out,” Futaba replied smoothly, “If anything gets out of hand, which it won’t, I’ll be here to coach him through it.”

Ren was silent for a few moments, trying to find the right words. “No offense, but are you really-”

“Maybe not.” She said quietly, with enough gravitas to make him stop. “But it’s another quest, right? It’d be a good thing for me to do too.”

Ren felt incredibly conflicted. He knew he could be overprotective of his friend, but he’d seen her at her lowest, and frankly she needed the protection. But he had also seen her take so many strides, the fact she had been at school for a few weeks now and was simply complaining about classes like every other student was a testament to that. He didn’t want to hold her back, but he also couldn’t bear it if there was a dent to her confidence that locked her back up in her room all over again.

“Come oooooon,” Futaba playfully pleads, “I wanna see how well the servers I set up handle the stress!”

Ren pulls out his phone and the  _ Stroke of Heart  _ page, circling with his thumb for some long seconds before he stabs share. “There, all done,” he said coolly, “When you’re up to your neck in trolls don’t come crying to me.”

“I relish the challenge,” Futaba smugly replied, before glancing at her computer screen and screaming in horror. “AH, THE GAME ALREADY STARTED!?”

“Shoot,” Ren said with a lot less feeling, “We got random heroes. Oooooh, this guy has whiskers!”

“Goddamnit Mandrake suuuuuucks,” she moaned. “Okay, we can still save this, alright, you’re going to have to play hybrid controller-cross-diver, it’s very simple...”

“Control what now?”

**Page Viewers: 267**

* * *

 

The coffee here was different to LeBlanc’s, but not unpleasantly so. The food was another matter, with the lightly glazed vegetables colourfully arranged on the plate in front of him not a match in any way to Sojiro’s curry. Not that it was of a low quality of course, the owner strove for excellence in a manner Yusuke himself greatly admired, but it was difficult to compete with a dish that had apparently been derived using a set of finely tuned scientific formulae. He had asked Futaba and her foster father both separately how the art of cuisine could be reduced to something so mechanical, but they had just smiled. Wakaba Isshiki was apparently a master of of the impossible in her tragically short life. When Yusuke asked them both if he could examine her methodology however, he was only greeted by restrained glares from the elder and younger Sakura in turn. Apparently the curry itself would be the only gift he would be receiving, and the knowledge behind it would remain a guarded secret.

Yusuke shook his head, breaking the train of thought. He took another sip of his coffee. Earthy, but a rich earth. He could imagine it as pure plant ambrosia, and was already picturing rows of coffee plants, smothered in sparkling dew, crisscrossing a vast rolling landscape. This was what he should be focussing on. It seemed so disrespectful to be consistently Cafe Noir to LeBlanc, he certainly feels uncomfortable when Madarame is brought up by the public at any exhibitions he’s taking part in, though perhaps the comparison wasn’t particularly apt.

Another odd train of thought. He straightened, and put his focus in his right hand, his drawing hand, which was currently doodling on a stray napkin with a cheap pencil. It had become a habit of his when waiting for somebody else to arrive. Yusuke found the exercise particularly interesting because these creations emerged from a very subconscious realm, and could only ever be interpreted from hindsight. He remembered a period when he only drew sharp shapes and slashes in these sessions, and later concluded it represented the shattering of his life when Ren had come bursting through it, with their other friends in tow. His current sketch was fuzzy, a dark field coalescing, though there was perhaps a figure hiding within. He didn’t know who they were yet, but Yusuke imagined that would come with time.

“Sorry Yusuke,” a soft voice said, as the apron clad Haru trotted towards him, “That should be the last of the six o’clock rush.” Her hair was tied up tightly behind her head, held by a shimmering black bow, the same material as the apron, but contrasting with the white blouse underneath. As she sat down opposite him, placing down her own coffee on the intimate onyx table, she pulled the bow loose, and the effect was instantaneous, her hair bouncing outwards into its regular fluffy form. She laughed at herself, like she did every time. “Floof!” She tittered.

Yusuke couldn’t hope to contain his small smile, as always when he saw her display. “I’m rather unsure how any scissors can tame that tangle of yours Haru.”

“Shears have been suggested,” she replied, loosening the more uncomfortable buttons on her blouse as she settled into her chair. “I’m just lucky to have a very good hairdresser. How’s the coffee? Those beans were really fresh!”

She always asked him that question, she would ask it to everyone in her cafe if she could, and often did, if manager hadn’t managed to shoo her away. “It’s wonderful as always, this particular blend I can feel the care you take in growing the ingredients.”

Haru beamed back at him, despite the tired droop in her cheeks and sweat fading on her brow. “Thank you! You know, I think I like your compliments the best Yusuke…”

“I’m sure you say that to all of the Thieves Haru,” he replied.

“Perhaps,” she said neutrally, sipping at her own drink. “But you can be such a charmer without even realising!”

“I can?” He asked, eyebrows raised, but only slightly.

Haru was giggling again. “It’s important that you don’t realise, or else you’ll lose it.”

“I see…” Yusuke acquiesced, fully aware this was another one of those things he just wasn’t able to follow. “I have to say, you look exhausted. Are your studies taking a toll on you?”

She shook her head, but with a smile. “From charming to clueless just like that…” She let her elbow rest on the table, and her head on her hand in turn, rubbing one of her eyes. “I suppose you’re right, the management classes are starting to become more in depth, and my finance assignments only ever seem to multiply.”

“You have my sympathy,” Yusuke said, “The furor is already building for the entrance exams, and they’re almost two whole semesters away. Frankly the whole exercise seems rather pointless.”

With her free hand, Haru wagged a foreboding finger at him. “Be careful of saying that in front of Makoto. It will be worth it for you though Yusuke, my university seems to be a haven for those with a creative spark. If I’m being honest, I can catch myself daydreaming about becoming one of them.”

“Nonsense.” Yusuke replied immediately. “Why, this room represents your vision become manifest. This is your calling Haru, I am sure of it.”

The cafe was almost effortlessly designed. Black tables, chairs, and vases atop sheer white flooring, with every element of the cafe ascribing to the binary of light are dark. Yusuke had admittedly had some input on certain aspects of her creation, but all of the Phantom Thieves had their own touch that shone independently. Ren and Morgana suggested a pet-friendly policy, that while causing inevitable fuss, still had generated more than a few loyal customers. Ryuji’s contribution was a soft drinks machine, while Ann suggested stocking the bathrooms with  _ ‘Everything a model in a make-up crisis might need. _ ’ Makoto suggested the inclusion of a private room for those needing absolute quiet or secrecy, and Futaba had ensured that the cafe had a public WiFi that rivalled that of most scientific institutions. While the group insisted it was all her work, Haru knew that Cafe Noir was just another culmination of the Phantom Thieves working as a team.

Yusuke watched her as she dropped into yet another a drowsy reverie.“You could just take fewer shifts here, could you not?” he suggested.

She gave him a look, not a mean one, but one that said  _ ‘That is  _ **_not_ ** _ happening.’ _ She was the sole investor in the cafe, and the de facto boss, but she had sworn to herself she wouldn’t act as one. She would start from the bottom, despite her wealth of privilege, it just so happened that it was simpler to create the bottom that she would start from herself. Her staff all thought she was a little bit crazy, but they couldn’t exactly argue with their boss-come-subordinate. Considering she also made sure that only the loveliest people could make it through the hiring process, there wasn’t much friction to speak of despite the oddity of the business. So she worked, whenever her schedule would allow, to both the admiration and concern of everyone around her. Truthfully, she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep this pace up forever, but she wanted to be around for the first few months of the cafe’s existence, to watch it grow into the world. There was so much she had to learn after all.

“At the very least you have to make time for yourself,” Yusuke reasoned, once again to break Haru out of her meandering thoughts, “Boss is always willing to shut up shop, so to speak, when there are more pressing matters to attend to. This is even with his establishment relying completely on his presence.”

The owner eyed him closely again, but had to appreciate his words came from a place of concern. “In fairness,” she replied, pivoting the conversation, “Boss couldn’t afford to take on staff even if he wanted to. I asked to compare our balance sheets when I was compiling the business plan, and he only survives on some very shrewd cost saving.”  _ And those ambiguous payments that somehow appear to get him over the finish line,  _ she finished silently. One of the mysteries that was better off unsolved.

“But you are not in that situation,” Yusuke insisted. “Perhaps this is one area where Boss should not be taken as a role model.”

“But then, neither are you.” The artist was puzzled by her response, and she smiled back sweetly. “How about this, I will start taking more breaks, when you don’t spend your nights sketching and painting, when you really should be sleeping.”

“Ah.” His own hypocrisy was a difficult notion to counter. “Touche. Consider the matter closed.”

“Excellent,” Haru said with much satisfaction. “I’m sure everybody else will be telling us to slow down themselves, it makes no sense for us to say the same.”

Yusuke raised an eyebrow. “Hm? In your case perhaps, but on the contrary, Ann and Ryuji have both noticed that I have been looking much healthier, and apparently, ‘brighter’, as of late. My improved diet is likely the cause.”

“Improved?” His friend asked innocently. “Why is that?”

“Much of it is Futaba’s doing admittedly,” he answered, “She always ensures there is a substantial food supply available when we are together.”

While it was an unspoken rule that one of the duties of a Phantom Thief was to make sure Yusuke remembered to eat, Haru had a feeling it Futaba’s reasons ran deeper than that. “So you two are together a lot lately?” She asked casually.

“With the creation of our website, of course,” he acknowledged. “It was quite an intensive process, we spent many hours working together in LeBlanc over the last few weeks.”

“Oh of course!” Haru had seen the website shared by their friends over the last few days, although admittedly she had only been able to take a quick breeze through before her phone buzzed with another obligation. “It looked very impressive!”

“Thank you,” Yusuke smiled, “The reception I’ve received has been rather warm. The comments next to each work are also particularly interesting to read, they act as a monument to the public’s response at any one time.”

Haru beamed. “You should be very happy, it sounds like the work you both put in has paid off!”

His smile faltered. “Indeed…” A confused glance from Haru prompted an explanation. “We’ve already obtained hundreds of views, rising as of two days ago…”

“The Ren effect, I see!” Haru’s cafe had already reaped the benefits of the phenomena, having been far too busy on their opening day. She had wanted it to be a simple affair, as far away from the Okumura Foods giant as could be, but the sight of a line forming before she had cut the ribbon was a thrill she was glad she got to experience.

“I’ve already received some correspondence from a collector,” Yusuke continued, staring into his near empty cup.

“That’s great!” Haru beamed, faltering at her friend’s stony expression. “That’s… Not great?”

He sighed, loudly, as an artist might be expected to do. “I know such a thing should feel like victory, however…” He gripped his chin, rubbing circles with his thumb. “I can’t help but feel apprehensive. This was simply meant to be a portfolio of my work, albeit one with a certain flair. I wasn’t expecting to gain any real attention, and frankly it feels like it may become a distraction.”

He was stoic for some time, meditating on his worries, while Haru contemplated if she had any wisdom to impart. Looking at her coffee in his hand, her chair that he was sat on, and her Cafe that he was in, the words came to her. “Yusuke, have you ever heard of a fear of success?”

His head tilted as he considered her question. “Perhaps in passing, but those two concepts seem quite antithetical, wouldn’t you agree?”

“On the contrary,” she replied, “One of the things people don’t like to admit is that when we achieve something, something wonderful, we worry that others will expect us to to achieve that standard again and again. It promises to make our failures even harsher, and so then a fear of failure tumbles to create a fear of success.”

Yusuke nodded. “I see.”

“Then there’s everything else success comes with, new responsibilities, new targets to strive for,” she continued. “So I think what you’re feeling is perfectly natural.”

“Is this something you’ve come to feel yourself?”

She leans closer to her friend and drops her voice, rather conspiratorially. “To tell you the truth, I was expecting this Cafe to run its course rather quickly. I imagined it would just be a practice run, then I would try again in a few years when I had more experience of business, the world, and coffee! But, even expecting things to go wrong-”

“The world had other plans?” Yusuke finished for her.

“Precisely.” She pulls away, letting herself sink into her chair. “And as much as I’m endlessly thankful for how well things have panned out so far, I can’t help but think how much simpler things would be if I just decided to fully commit to university.”

“Simpler isn’t always better,” Yusuke offered, “Complications bring stress, but they also bring colour.”

“Which is precisely what I wanted to say to you!” Haru said smugly. Yusuke was affronted for a split second to have his own words used against him, but it quickly developed into a wry smile. “Yes, you’re probably going to have times where you wish you weren’t dealing with um,  _ website matters _ ,” she continued rather cluelessly, “But who knows what might come of it! There isn’t anything stopping you from walking away either, if you feel the need to.”

“Asides from my own pride,” Yusuke pointed out.

“That’s why you have me!” Haru pointed at herself. “And everyone else.”

Yusuke chuckled. “We are very good at curtailing eachother’s delusions of grandeur, aren’t we?”

“Ryuji and Mona especially,” his friend agreed. She heard an apprehensive voice call her name from the counter. “Oh, it seems like my break is over.”

“Just as well,” Yusuke said, “I must be heading back to the dorm. The work on my next piece must continue.”

“As long as you’re taking reasonable breaks.” Haru warns, with the unique hint of threat only she was capable of. The friends stood from their seats, Haru taking Yusuke’s cup before he could even argue, and pulling him into a hug in a similar fashion. “Have a nice evening Yusuke.”

“To you as well Haru,” he replied in turn, “And thank you for your sage advice. You are quite the remarkable woman.”

“Oh, Yusuke,” Haru giggled, releasing her grip and heading to the counter, “Save that charm for the girl who really wants it, okay?”

He feebly grasped at the meaning of her words, but quickly deduced it was yet another instance of him ‘ _ Just not getting it, Inari!’  _ (Futaba’s terminology), and they were quickly forgotten. Instead, as he left Cafe Noir, his mind was only filled with thoughts of how to successfully achieve the correct shade of paint from his currently dwindling supply.

**Page Viewers: 531**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's everything so far, hope you liked it! The only promise I can make about more updates is to not hold your breath for them, I have no idea where this is going, and that applies to this fic and my whole goddamn life. Bye for now!


	7. Version 1.1

The queen was cornered. Her men lay strewn all over the wretched battlefield, while enemy forces were amassing to surround the few that lay standing. This was clearly the end.

Not her end of course. "The time has come to attack!" She decreed, her loyal page following her words intently, with the delicate scribble of a pencil.

A few shrewd moves later, with her somehow overlooked knights flying deep into enemy territory, the Queen of the Togo kingdom smiled, satisfied, with her trap fully sprung, and her opponent driven to a humiliating defeat. "They followed the scent of blood in the water so thoughtlessly," Hifumi mused, "that they never considered that blood is only spilled in my lands when  _I_ decide it is time."

Her page channelled the victory speech into the finishing touches of his sketch, as she watched the 'WIN' screen on her sleek laptop come to a close, with a satisfied smile on her face. The playing statistics of her opponent made her surprised that her gambit had become so successful, but only in terms of how quickly she had reached victory. Her strategy had enough points of divergence and counter-plays within itself that she had already achieved an 80% chance of victory many turns ago. "Did you manage to keep up with my strategy this time Yusuke?"

Her question was unanswered for a few moments as the artist's drawing became more frantic, but his pencil was soon deposited on the cafeteria table. "Only towards the end," he admitted, as he dragged his thumb to form certain smudges onto his pencil lines, "To my eye your forces were being compressed due to your stubbornness, yet your counter attack exploded out at precisely the right moment. Your knights were a key part of your strategy, yes?"

Since they had started spending time together, Hifumi had slowly but surely been teaching Yusuke about the game, but he certainly wasn't as quick a study as Ren. His recognition of the pieces flying over the battlefield as knights was in itself a coup. "Precisely." she told him. "Heavy losses are in fact a tool you can utilize, although I admit such a strategy is easier to use when your opponent isn't at the table with you."

"Because then you have to conceal your emotions, correct?" She nodded. "For what it's worth, I was entirely convinced you were approaching your doom, even sitting alongside you." He passed his sketch paper over, and Hifumi could see his point. A silhouette of a queen stood alone on a hill, a mob in the foreground approaching, stepping over the bodies of her forces. But she could see where the queen's arms, slumped in defeat, had been erased, and replaced with a commanding point, that signalled the rise of grand pegasi behind her in the skies, to lay waste to her enemies. "It actually added something more genuine to the sketch," Yusuke continued, smiling, "When I drew the scene of you in peril, it meant that you breaking out into a position of strength was much more powerful."

"It's an excellent drawing Yusuke, I must give you something for-"

He shook his head firmly. "There is no need. It was your battle, thus the drawing itself is yours as well. The inspiration your play gives me is payment enough."

Hifumi hoped he didn't catch her blush. She had thought herself lucky that she had found Ren, who somehow enjoyed her… eccentricities, but with Yusuke he had given her fantasies a physical form. They had never been close before the Phantom Thieves business, despite having both been aware of the other's reputation as a prodigy. It was that status that contributed to that, with the machinations of the elder's and their own genuine passion to pursue their talent coalescing into making the pair both rather withdrawn in the school environment. Of course, the shared, hazy memory of blood red skies and creatures that could only be described as monstrous, could do wonders for even the most casual relationship, especially with the urge that Ren had sent them both separately on his departure to "Be more social."

"Actually, would you mind if I take a picture?" Yusuke requested, pulling out his phone. "This would be perfect for  _A Stroke of Heart_."

"Certainly; I always consider these sketches to be your property anyway." Hifumi replied warmly. She was aware of the website, a testament to its' growing momentum in the face of her rather modest tally of online friends. Followers however, now that was another matter entirely. "I could share this on my page as well actually, if you would appreciate the exposure?"

Yusuke smiled. "I suppose that could be rather helpful, if this portfolio's reach is as powerful tool as some are saying it is…"

"Oh, it is Kitagawa," a curt tone cut in, with Yusuke and Hifumi looking over their shoulders to identify who had crept up behind them. Kozue stood over them, her aura it's exhuding it's usual mix of haughty confidence, and this time, an air of conniving. Her right ear today was proudly adorned with a sizable bronze spear, with a glittering jewel at its tip. "Ah, the Phony Princess and Maderame's orphan performing a collaboration I see? Perhaps my proposal wouldn't be too outlandish then."

"Proposal?" Yusuke repeated, easily distracted, "What-"

Hifumi cut in, not wanting to give her what she wanted that easily. "Rather rude, to approach two clearly preoccupied people in such a manner, isn't it?"

"Quite, but that was the point." The two girls glared at eachother. They had a history, minor elementary school bickering about who's spot or who's crayon graduating to pure disdain by the time they came across eachother again at Kosei. This was exacerbated by Hifumi's increasing fame, which as of the present, still greatly eclipsed the following Kozue had obtained purely from her own work. The revelations surrounding her moniker as the ' _Phony_ Princess' certainly didn't help matters. "Anyway," Kozue said dismissively, ending the standoff to address Yusuke directly, "My proposal is simply this; we should collaborate together."

"A collaboration," he repeated, for his own benefit. "In what medium? Oils? Pastels? I believe simple pencil can often lend itself to an excellent ground work in which to grow a more grand vision. Perhaps we could go experimental, could we craft something using only objects found within this cafeteria..."

Oblivious to bored look Kozue was offering, and the strange twitch in Hifumi's face, Yusuke had begun to gather a collection of plastic cutlery and unused paper napkins amassed from the centre of the table. Kozue rolled her eyes, and snapped her fingers to get his attention. "Paint, sculpture, drawing, all of the elegant methods are possible, but  **not** eating utensils." His expression remained vacant as he mulled over her words, and she sighed. "God, look at yourself." Yusuke sheepishly stole a look at his plastic treasure trove. "So, do we have an agreement?"

"I-"

"I have noticed that website of yours," Kozue added, "Impressive, but if you want to maintain it's growth you need to find a way to tap in an already established artistic community. You have an audience sure, but you need the  _right_ audience. Enter, Kozue."

Those words seemed to cloud Yusuke, and an uneasy silence fell."He'll think about it," Hifumi decided for him finally, with a look that dared Kozue to stay any longer.

She almost did, but the artist's overriding instinct to not waste valuable time on those beneath her won through, dramatically placing a dark, shimmering object in front of Yusuke. "My business card," She said smoothly, "If this project goes well, perhaps we can see about obtaining some of your own." She walked away without another word, Hifumi scoffing as she saw her whip out her phone and begin tapping rapidly, already set on some other piece of business.

Yusuke meanwhile picked up the card between his index finger and thumb, doing his very best to avoid any smudging. It was already a piece of art in itself, an obsidian background highlighting the shine of red petals cascading across the card, while 'Kozue Torawa, Fine Artist' was declared boldly in white. It was hypnotising. So much so that Hifumi had to slap it out of his hand to get his attention. "Yusuke!"

"Yes?" His eyes were still on the card for a fleeting moment, but Hifumi's glare was enough to pull him away.

"Well?" He didn't answer, and Hifumi tapped the table impatiently. "You're not actually considering this, are you?"

Yusuke's expression turned more thoughtful. "I have often wondered how our styles could mesh, and I have been wanting to create something of such grandeur it requires two pairs of hands…"

His friend narrowed her eyes. "There are many talented artists at this school," Hifumi pointed out, "But this seems to have really piqued your interest. Why?"

He let the question simmer for a few moments before answering. "I suppose my interest in her art has always been prevalent, but that could be said for many of our peers, not that I've ever been approached for such work outside of a classroom context." He hummed, dissatisfied with his explanation. "No, if I want to be truthful, then I have to admit that the fact our project would put my name in the mind of her audience, that is enticing to me."

"Enticing?" Hifumi was even less sure of his answer then he was. "Yusuke, I never thought you were one to care about your ego."

"Ego, no," he stated plainly, "My work is another story, but this is besides the point.  _A Stroke of Heart's_ viewership is growing, at a rate that's quite frankly alarming, but such an audience is useless if they don't provide the right connections."

"Your talk about connections and viewership makes you sound like her." Yusuke squirmed in his seat. "She was irritating before, but ever since it became the norm to broadcast your entire life online she really has become insufferable…"

"I don't want this for the same ends as she does," Yusuke insisted, catching Hifumi's gaze. "She  _is_ obsessed with fame and influence, that is obvious to anyone, but those things are useful for an up-and-coming artist, especially with my,  _ah_ , lack of resources, so to speak."

He looked sincere to Hifumi, who admittedly had only just started to delve into psychology textbooks to add an extra dimension to her Shogi technique. Considering Yusuke also didn't have much of a filter to control how he expresses himself to begin with, she had to take his words as genuine. She also started to feel bad, reminded that her family made pursuing her passion easier with the safety net they offered, versus the relative dearth of support offered to Yusuke, besides his scholarship and his friends. "I can see that," Hifumi admitted meekly, "and I trust you to make the right choices for the right reasons. But you've never spoken like this before. Has something changed?"

Yusuke leaned back in his chair, tapping his index fingers together. "Not per say. But the future is fast approaching, and I have been told by many close to me that building my portfolio and following are the best ways to secure that future for my own shaping." He exhaled. "I must admit, some of this approach feels like progress, however, there is a general unease that tends to linger, but I can't tell if that feeling is instinct, or a paltry fear that serves only as a distraction."

"It's good that you're thinking about this at least." Hifumi offered. "I don't think you should work with her, though I can admit there are some of my own biases that lead me to saying that. The choice is yours to make. In my experience," She added, "Fame does open doors, however, you have to be ready to be thrown back through those doors. Not every one will be right for you. But the important part was that I always made Shogi my main focus, and I would say that's left me in a good position on the board, for now. I'm sure if you focus purely on your artistry you will find yourself in good stead."

Yusuke smiled, his friend's words making him feel more settled. "That does seem like the best approach." His calm was irked by thoughts of flashing lights, prestigious art institutions, and people, a person, by his side throughout it all. The imagery itself was a nice picture, but the strong resonance for that life in his soul was unnerving. "Perhaps I should seek further counsel."

The school bell rang, and the pair were now faced with having to traipse into the horrors of gym class. "At the very least Yusuke," Hifumi stated wearily, "I hope the combat of dodgeball can fire up a warrior's spirit, and weave your thoughts into clarity."

"It hasn't had that effect previously," he replied darkly. "Honestly, we are final year students, and such pursuits offer nothing to us at this point. Many paths lay in our way, and none of them involve a playing field."

"I agree with you mostly, however," Hifumi starts wistfully, "One gym class became the basis of an excellent Shogi technique..."

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"Oh gosh, and all that might really happen?!"

"Perhaps," the fortune-teller replied, "I can only tell you the shapes I see in the cards." She waved a hand over the spread on the counter for emphasis. "They tell me of the paths laid before you, and the figures that lie at the crossroads between them. Which path you walk, and what obstacles you can overcome, is all up to you."

Sojiro couldn't help but roll his eyes, but considering he was currently washing dishes he didn't need to restrain himself. He didn't know how his beloved coffee shop had also become a conduit for channeling arcane energy, but he blamed Ren, and was thankful that this tomfoolery took place on a fairly sporadic basis. It was only natural Chihaya Mifune would come to learn of LeBlanc, and it's almost legendary coffee, due to her friendship with the boy who used to live in its' attic. Most of his network, even that cocky little brat who kept talking about 'damage stats' and 'the sick plays I made down the arcade' were certain to make an appearance every so often. Chihaya had taken this to another level, with a few of LeBlanc's regulars soon becoming  _her_ regulars as well.

"Goodness," an older gentleman said, giving his wife a worried glance, "It still seems like we have some trouble in our future…"

"Oh, stop worrying!" She replied cheerfully. "She might've said that there was a dark force in the way of your success, but she also said to vanquish the monster with honesty, and reap your just rewards!" Her voice lowered to a whisper, but that whisper that the older generation possess where they aren't concerned by the rest of the room hearing every word. "Don't you get it? She's saying it's time for you to face your boss, you already have the evidence that he-"

"Oh lord look at the time," the man interjected, bringing both he and his wife to their feet as he ushered her to the door. "Boss, thank you for the coffee."

Chihaya already had the couple's money, but frowned slightly upon their exit. "Huh? They didn't say goodbye…"

"I think your reading hit a nerve for them." Sojiro explained, putting the last of the now-cleaned dishes in its rightful place. "I think you may have tipped their argument one way in particular."

The fortune teller shrugged, turning her attention back to her coffee. " _I_ didn't do anything, I merely tell them what the cards tell me…" She took a sip, enjoying full and rich taste of the blend.

"If you say so," Sojiro said neutrally. It was getting late, with Chihaya being the only customer left in the shop. Well, depending on whether he could call his own daughter a 'customer'. Futaba had taken up a whole booth, as usual, working on whatever project she had currently become obsessed over, tapping away at her laptop's keyboard with a strange sort of rhythm. He walked over to her, not that she noticed. "Hey, y'know we're closing soon?" There was no response, her eyes still fixed to her screen, but by this point Sojiro knew she would be listening on some level. "I don't want you on that thing much longer, it's a school night."

"Why not?" Futaba asked plainly, without giving any other signs she was paying attention.

For once, Sojiro actually had an answer. "I actually read an article in the paper about how sleeping patterns get all messed up by the light from screens," he said, with a hint of smugness, "Something to do with the wavelength of the light only being found in sunlight before we came up with computers."

Futaba smiled. "Huh, so you actually have been doing your parenting homework!" Sojiro was pleased with himself for only a moment, as Futaba turned her laptop screen over to him, which was showing that website that it seemed her and the Kitagawa kid were working on, but covered in a strange orange hue. "But I use a program to get rid of all the blue and white light," Futaba explained, as self satisfied as ever, "making the screen all orange like this. So I'll be sleeping soundly, no matter what I'm doing!"

Sojiro was irked to have his ace in the hole shot down, and wasn't entirely convinced that the colour orange had that much of an effect. "Well, as your father, I'm cutting you off."

The tone he used told Futaba this wasn't a time where she could play with him any further. Not that she could resist huffing about it a little. " _Fiiiine,_  just let me finish this while the phony finishes her coffee."

But owing to her lack of social skills, she said that rather loudly for a quiet coffee shop. "Futaba!" Sojiro scolded. Sure, he agreed with his daughter completely, but there was a decorum to be followed, especially with customers. Unfortunately, he spoke pretty loudly then too, and that only caught Chihaya's attention, confirming what she heard.

"It's okay." The Sakura's looked away from each other and to the fortune-teller, who was smiling sweetly. "I've heard a lot worse! But I think the power of the tarot cannot be underestimated, even if it's methods are strange and mysterious."

Futaba rolled her eyes. "Suuuure it is..." Sojiro glared at his daughter, who retreated into her seat. "Well, I'm not wrong!" She argued. "Look, lady, I don't mean to offend or anything, but don't fortune-tellers just prey on people who want easy answers?"

"I have met a few unscrupulous members of my profession yes." Was her honest reply, much to Futaba's surprise. "But myself, at the very least, I attempt to offer the most accurate divinations."

"But there's the problem," Futaba leaned forward, attempting to throw weight to her upcoming argument, "They aren't divinations! It's all subtle psychology. I've got my own reasons to believe in spiritual stuff, believe me, but a tarot reading has more to do with the human brain than the human soul. That couple that left just now? You probably overheard them talking, made some logical bridges, and came up with a story those cards told that juuuust about fit their situation. There have been so many exposé's on exactly this kind of thing!"

Chihaya was still smiling, but it started to waver. "I see… Well, I am unfamiliar with those techniques, and I certainly don't practice them!"

Futaba studied her for a few moments, ignoring her father's frown. "Interesting. Maybe you learned them without realising, and you yourself can't even realise the scam that you're pulling."

"Scam?" The colour drained a little from her face. "No, I couldn't possibly- Oh dear…"

"Futaba, you're being very rude," Sojiro said sternly. He loved her to death, but a part of that was letting her know when her eccentricities would  _not_ be tolerated, or else she would learn those lessons in a much more unforgiving setting. "I want you to apologise to Chihaya, pack up your things, and go to your room."

Now that was a tone she couldn't fight back against. With a mumbled "Sorry," Futaba closed her laptop, put it in her bag, and trudged out of her seat before Chihaya intervened.

"Wait!" Futaba turned her attention to her, an ornate looking deck of cards in one hand, while the other patted the stool next to her own. "I can't convince you there isn't trickery performed by many of my colleagues," Chihaya admitted, "But I  _can_ show you that my powers are genuine."

Futaba's first instinct was to look to Sojiro for permission, and his slow nod indicated it was a 'yes'. The customer was always right after all, and if she wanted to prove herself, he couldn't argue. Although this was not going to get Futaba out of the lecture he was planning in his head about how to properly treat paying customers.

Plopping herself down on the stool, Futaba suddenly found herself feeling very nervous. She was at the mercy of a fortune-teller who she had just insulted. Was that chill wicked spirits coalescing around her? But then the rational part of her mind deduced it was because of her sudden proximity to someone she didn't really know, and she felt her usual bravado slowly come back to her. "S-sure." She started shakily. "Let's see what you've got!"

All of a sudden, Chihaya's demonour shifted. The cards flowed in spirals around her hands, in a shuffling technique so intricate it felt spiritual in itself. "This will be a five card spread," she said airily, but with a certain degree of authority, "Perhaps one of the most well-known techniques, but only because of its undeniable power." That sent a shiver down Futaba's spine. Was the room getting darker? "We will examine your past, present, and future, and ultimately, show a possible path for you to follow, and the destination it will take you, should you choose to heed this reading. Whether you do, or do not, is entirely up to you."

In a flash, five cards lay face-down on the table, in the shape of a simple cross. "Woah," Futaba muttered, a small smile creeping up Chihaya's lips.

"So let us reveal the first card of our spread," She began grandly, "And determine the truth about your current situation." Futaba cursed her heart for beating so fast, and faster still as the fortune teller flipped her first card. It depicted a silhouette walking across the card, with a bindle laid over his shoulder, clearly on a journey of some sort. "The Fool," Chihaya explained, "symbolises beginnings, yet see where it sits on this counter?" She beckoned Futaba to place her fingers on the card, and she realised it had become caught on a small divot in the wood of the counter, making it difficult to move. "The card is immobile, which is unusual to see. There  _is_ meant to be a new journey for you, yet, it remains ignored. You believe you are on familiar ground, when in fact you have been led into somewhere new. You choose to live the same way you always have, despite this obvious shift."

The reading felt a lot more intense than Futaba was expecting it to. She couldn't have set that specific card to be stuck on that specific spot, could she? Or maybe she could. She'd seen footage of much flashier tricks after all. Regardless, she tried to think about the words. "I'm not sure that makes sense," she started slowly. "There  _has_ been a change, I've been going to school. I don't think that's usual for me at all!"

"Perhaps that journey isn't the most important right now," Chihaya replied, "Or perhaps your capability means school isn't really much of an undertaking." It was true that Futaba hadn't had any real crises to speak of since that first day. The regular drudgery of school work and being around other kids had its drawbacks sure, but she couldn't pretend that she was finding it to be much of a challenge. "Remember, it is up to you to define the meanings surrounding these cards. I am only your guide."

"Got it," Futaba said, without really getting it. "On to the next card?"

Chihaya nodded, flipping over the card to The Fool's left. "This card shows your past." She said as it turned. It lay flat on the table, a sword bearing scales. The scales, and number of the card itself, were upside down, which Sojiro and Futaba both found surprisingly unnerving. "And it is Justice, reversed." The fortune-teller looked at Futaba apologetically. "There was someone special to you, someone you lost. Their absence, and the actions of those surrounding that loss, has made it difficult for you to reach out, and put your faith in someone, and really care about them, without them disappearing, or letting you down."

Sojiro frowned at the fortune teller. "Hey now, I thought this was supposed to be a bit of fun?"

"The cards only draw on what has been, and what is too be." Chihaya replied diplomatically. "Life has it's bright spots and it's miseries, so too, does a tarot reading."

"It's fine anyway Sojiro," Futaba waved off, completely unmoved, or at least appearing to be. "You noticed how she said 'someone special?' and a really vague 'lost?'. That's so it could apply to anything, Tana, Mom… even when they killed off the Chrome Featherman!" She sat in her chair smugly, hiding how the reminder of the demise of her favourite 'mid-season ratings push the writers suddenly decided was an awful idea' character was burning her insides. "She hasn't even done anything yet!"

Chihaya did feel slighted, but she did her best not to show it. "Perhaps the next card will resonate with you more…" The card to right of The Fool was turned, revealing a woman and a man, with a heart separating them, however once again this image was upside down. "The reversed Lovers, another bad omen…" Nevermind 'reversed', the word 'Lovers' was enough to set Futaba's mind ablaze. Was she sweating? Why would she, these were just cards… "You will live and lead a good life if you continue as you are," Chihaya continued, "a life many would say they would be happy to live. However, you will feel a weight of absence, and you may not even realise that weight comes from regret, and that regret will always be around you, dancing with another, and taunting your cowardice."

Futaba couldn't hold it in anymore. "Absence? Regret? Are you saying I'm supposed to be dating somebody right now?" Chihaya tactically stayed silent, letting Futaba go on. "But there isn't anybody, I don't know people! Ren is out of town and a  _toootal_ dweeb, that Mishima is just an NPC, Ryuji is kinda cute I guess but he's  _suuuch_ a sore loser at the arcade,  _and_ he keeps killing me with exercise. Not to mention everyone in the hacking IRC channels are  _such_ amateurs."

Sojiro also had a slight heart attack at the mention of the L-word, but more than that, Futaba's response to it. She could be flustered by the world, yes, but it was usually more in an absolute sense, rather than being embarrassed as he could see here. More glaringly, he couldn't help but noticed she had managed to list every boy in her social circle except the one she had been spending the most time with recently.

"Besides," Futaba continued, "Aren't tarot cards kinda abstract? Like I know Death doesn't  _actually_ mean Death, so the Lovers is the same, right?"

"Of course," Chihaya nodded carefully, "But the emotions that they stoke within us do correspond to their true meaning."

"Okay, cool." Futaba smiled, relieved, choosing to ignore that second part. "Then this is fine, it probably means I need to keep my friends close or something, or else they'll go away. Next card!" Hesitantly, Chihaya turned the card below The Fool, revealing a decrepit skull, upside down. The trio all stared at it. "Death huh?" Futaba whispered. "I guess maybe I should be the fortune teller here."

"This card represents the reasons you're in your current situation." Chihaya explained quickly, trying to assuage the worries of her audience. "You were certainly right in saying that Death as a card isn't literal, and its' appearance to us in the reverse actually ties together with The Fool."

"It does?"

"Yes. Death represents a shift, a change from one form of life to another. Reversed Death shows a resistance to that change. While you have made many strides, and overcome monsters that are truly unspeakable, you have questions that are unresolved, despite your strength. Your blind spot comes from ignoring those questions, and instead staying comfortable in answering what you already know you can answer."

"So," Futaba started slowly, "The Fool's saying there's a journey I should be going on, while Death is saying I'm ignoring the questions that'd take me there."

"That is the meaning I would take from this," Chihaya encouraged. "The cards allow us to reach within ourselves, and admit what is holding us back, which otherwise we would be unable to confront."

"But this is all so vague!" The fortune teller's expression dropped, not that Futaba noticed. "Like as a performance, this is excellent, ten out of ten. That thing you did with the Fool card was a really good gambit! But everyone feels like they're meant to be going somewhere and not, had bad stuff happen in their past, wants people to love them, and doesn't like change. That's being human! So no, you haven't convinced me," she finished, folding her arms, "Though I admit you had me going there." She hopped off of her stool, adjusting her backpack on her shoulders. "I'm gonna head off, you're not gonna convince me, and anything I say is gonna make the old guy madder..."

She left without a goodbye, leaving Sojiro and Chihaya in silence. She looked very unsure of herself, looking over the spread of cards at all angles, as if to see what went wrong. "Don't worry about her," Sojiro said apologetically, "She's stubborn, and too smart for her own good sometimes. I'm going to have a talk with her about respecting people after I shut up shop here."

"Oh, don't worry," Chihaya replied, putting on a cheery face, "As I said earlier, people can be cruel to those who scry for knowledge. I can tell she has a good heart." Her expression softened slightly. "I'm more disappointed in myself. I could tell there was real power in this spread, yet I couldn't get it's message across in the correct way…"

"I reckon you did," Sojiro said firmly, to Chihaya's surprise. "But she's stubborn. Every time you were saying said she had to change she threw it right back at you. I think that means you're right." His hand hovered over the final, face down card. "May I?" She nodded, and he revealed an eye staring back at them, underneath a shining lantern. "I'm not sure what this one is," Sojiro admitted.

"This card in the spread represents the outcome, if your daughter heeds the advice of this reading." Chihaya informed him, regaining her professional air. "This is The Hermit, which usually represents solitude, but here I can see it is more about the mastery of one's self. Though this image is hazy, I can envision her surrounded by those she loves, and those she loves  _even more_. This future can only be achieved by following the tenants of the Hermit- to look deep within herself, with no judging, and complete honesty, to reconcile her place in the world, but perhaps more importantly, to learn what to take from the world that will make her whole."

Sojiro exhaled. "That's positive at least." He removed his glasses and began rubbing his eyes. "Christ, you were right. The cards do reveal everything."

"They have?" Chihaya was mystified. "She didn't resonate with any of the reading."

"Trust me, she did." He wasn't exactly sure on what the protocol was for realising your daughter had a crush on someone before she even did, but he knew for sure it was far above his capabilities. "God, why did she have to fall for the one that never pays..." he grumbled to himself.

"Then there were accuracies?" Chihaya relaxed a little into her stool. "That's very relieving. I must admit, I was wondering if there was any truth to her words."

"She's a bit of a know-it-all," Sojiro explained, "It doesn't help that she's right most of the time either. Though apparently there are a few important things she's missing."

"I'm sure she'll find those things," Chihaya said confidently, "whatever they are. I know I did, in my own time."

Sojiro insisted that her coffee was free, as compensation for the impromptu tarot reading, and sent the fortune teller on her way, with a newfound respect for her art. Now alone in his café, he laid his hands on the counter and sighed heavily. How the hell could he help Futaba through a problem that she didn't even know she was having. He looked to his right, at the Sayori hanging on his wall.  _At least she didn't pick too badly,_ he thought wistfully,  _All things considered..._

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"I can't believe Sojiro grounded me for that."

"If you are grounded," Yusuke asked, sat on her bed in the late afternoon, "then why am I here?"

"I managed to convince him your website was important to your school work, and you would be helpless without me." In actuality, while Sojiro could totally believe that last part, he was more concerned with having his daughter confront the feelings she was oblivious to hiding. Yusuke was a 'first boyfriend' that he could have some influence over at the very least, not that he had any idea what the boy himself thought about the matter. The kid just confused him most of the time.

"Hmm, excellently done. Though I do believe his punishment may have some value."

Futaba swivelled away from her computer to face him, and frown. "What, you're on his side?"

"Tarot reading is her way of expression," Yusuke reasoned, "I certainly would be affronted if someone criticised my art without particularly understanding it's intricacies."

Futaba squinted. "But art is meant to be criticised. If noone has anything to say about what you've made isn't it sort of pointless?"

"Perhaps," he admitted, "but then there can be an odd sort of beauty in a piece so removed from everything it provokes no response…" As he said this, his eyes started to focus on nothing in particular, becoming lost in the concept. Futaba let him explore for a few moments before snapping her fingers. "I apologise," he said immediately. He had been getting a lot better at refocussing on the conversation since they had started working on the website, considering he had to do it so often. "If I may provide an analogy, imagine you have written a very competent and admired program, yet someone begins to reduce it to all of those little tricks you have told me about when writing it, implying you have somehow frauded the process. Would you not find that irksome?"

Futaba considered that. "It's not really the same," she started, before swivelling back to her computer with a sigh, "but I think I see your point. I'll say sorry when I see her in LeBlanc."

Yusuke smiled, if only because he knew it wouldn't be caught. In all of their little squabbles, and her vast array of knowledge, he always cherished the moments when he had reached her with reason. "I am happy to hear that; she is a delightful woman."

"Is she now?" Futaba asked, her eyes still on the screen. "I didn't know you knew each other."

"I do take up my own residence in LeBlanc, as you know," he explained, going back to the sketch book in his lap, "The readings she gives to the other customers can provide a font of inspiration, and the emotions she catches in her delivery is rather captivating."

"Why don't you just marry her then," Futaba mumbled, without really meaning to.

"Hm?"

"Nothing." She didn't really know how that came out of her. Sure, she was pretty, but much too old for Yusuke, wait, why the hell did she care anyway?! "Have you ever gotten a reading from her?" Futaba asked quickly, wanting to get off that train of thought.

"A few months ago," Yusuke told her, focussed on his sketchbook, "She told me a new figure would be coming into my life, one of vast importance, that I should make all efforts to understand and befriend."

 _More vagueness,_ Futaba thought to herself. "And how did that go for ya?"

"Well it was just before you told the Phantom Thieves to steal your heart." He answered casually. That made Futaba seize up a little, a reading about  _ **her?!**_ "She was entirely correct of course," Yusuke continued, "Mona was a much less effective navigator than you showed yourself to be."

"N-no kidding," she said lamely. "She say anything else?"

The artist looked up from his sketchbook, rubbing his chin as he racked his brain for information. "Not that I can remember. She mentioned the heart a lot, but I imagine much of that stemmed from my actions surrounding Maderame's palace, although that never seemed too convincing to me.."

Somehow a silence fell over the pair, and Futaba felt Yusuke's eyes burn into the back of her head. In actuality, he had returned to his sketching, but Futaba felt she had to do something to stop that phantom gaze. "Processing's done!" She announced hastily, turning around, and beckoning Yusuke besides her. "Meet  _A_   _Stroke of Heart_ version 1.1."

Yusuke looked all over the screen, displaying the homepage of their website, but couldn't identify anything that looked like an update. "Has anything changed?" He asked bluntly. "I have an eye for detail, yet this is still the same design as we began with."

Futaba, infinitely glad of something to talk about, didn't even chastise his ignorance. "It's all stuff under the hood, and super clever stuff at that!  _Por exemple,_ " she started, opening a new tab in her browser and sticking the words 'heart', 'art', and 'stroke' in the search bar, "Look!"

The website was now in the first page of searching, albeit on the bottom of the list. "That's quite impressive," Yusuke said, although the prospect did unearth some small sense of worry within him.

"Search engine optimisation at work my friend," Futaba replied smugly, cracking her knuckles as she leaned back in her chair, "You were pulling in good numbers before, but now it's really going to shine!"

Again, that prospect of fame. Again, that feeling that something wasn't quite right. Yusuke couldn't stop it. "Futaba-"

"And just think!" She continued, drumming her fingers together. "If we can keep growing like this, we set up a store, set up some publicity, a place for your fans, you might not even need university! You could just work on what you want, I'll handle the business side, and we'll be set for life!"

 _Complete freedom?_ Yusuke wondered. Even he knew her words were a pipe dream, but her enthusiasm, and satisfaction for the project, was contagious. "I didn't realise your plans were so grand," he said warmly.

"Have you seen the markup on prints?" She replied excitedly. "We could be making a killing! Not to mention on fine art itself, that's even more ridiculous! Plus, you wouldn't be the worst person to work with," she admitted, "I kind of have been thinking I'd like to be working with at least one of our friends in the long term."

"A burden is lightened when working with those you care about, after all," Yusuke agreed, daydreaming about an easy future. "Though why did you choose me?"

"Huh?" It was a question she wasn't prepared for.

"Our friends all have marketable skillsets. While Makoto's career is already chosen, Ren could make a success of himself wherever he chooses to go, the fruits- or rather, vegetables of Haru's labours are already beginning to flourish, Ann's modelling career is already established, and Ryuji…" He struggled for any justification. "They are all very talented," he finished lamely, "Yet you have undertaken all of this effort on my behalf. Why?"

Now this would be a struggle. "B-Because…" Why had she started this whole project? Yes, it could make a good business someday, but he was right, there were other opportunities right there. Did she feel sorry for him not having a clue about the digital world, or just not having his life straightened out? That didn't feel right at all. As much as she didn't like to say it too loudly, she just really respected what he could do with a brush, but more than that (and thought much more quietly), all of the thoughts and feelings he put into his work. All of the him in it, basically. "I just ran the numbers and this came out as the best one," she lied, surprisingly smoothly, "no big deal. I did try to convince Mona once to stage some viral cat videos, but he wouldn't have it. Said it was 'demeaning to a human like himself'."

"I see." Her answer somehow felt hollow to him, but perhaps he was hoping that his art had inspired her into this course of action. That must be it. "Regardless of intention," he said with a smile, "I'm in if you are."

"Hell yeah!" She raised her hand for a high five, and accepted the adorably feeble reciprocation. "We're gonna make KitagawaCorp the biggest name in the business!"

While the name would need working on, Yusuke remembered how long it took to decide the name of the website itself, and decided it would be a discussion for another time. He also remembered one of the points of discussion he needed to raise at this meeting. "Futaba, I was meaning to ask you, what would you think about a possible collaboration."

"Er," she gestured between the two of them, "what do you think this is?"

"I mean between myself with another artist from Kosei. Here."

He passed over Kozue's card for Futaba's inspection, the hacker holding up the card to her bedroom's light. "Ooooh, pretty. This seems really professional. And she goes to your school?"

Yusuke nodded. "She has quite the following herself, I can imagine it would do good things for the website's publicity."

"Oh! Sure, why not," Futaba waved away, ignoring the prickle she felt at the word 'she', "What could go wrong, right?"

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've pretty much got the rest of this set, there might be 3 or 4 more chapters? Hope you've enjoyed the story so far, let me know what you think!


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